"It's fine," I said.
That night, we didn't sleep. We talked until the candles guttered out. She told me about the "place between spells"—a quiet dark where half-formed wishes wait. She admitted she knew she was temporary from the first moment she opened her eyes. And she still chose to make me pancakes. spells r us dream girl part 2
Not a dream. Not a hallucination. Nora—summoned less than twelve hours ago from a dusty spell book and a questionable amount of belief—was real. Her hair caught the morning light like honey in a jar. She hummed something that wasn't a real song but felt like one I'd forgotten. "It's fine," I said
I opened my mouth to deny it. Closed it. Because she was right—and I hated that. She told me about the "place between spells"—a
"You take your coffee with cinnamon," she said, not turning around. "You pretend you don't, but you do."
Then she was gone—like morning fog burning off.
By noon, Nora had finished three of my sentences, laughed at a joke I'd only thought, and cried during a commercial for pet adoption because she felt how much I wanted a dog but was too scared to commit.