Her beauty was ethereal, knocking on the door of the part of his psyche that still believed in magic and miracles.

If only they could live in the twilight of their dreams, in the tiny moment before the harsh light of reality found them, perhaps they could be happy.

She pointed a long lacquered nail at the pocket where his hand was fidgeting. “So is that an Obsidian in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?

He understood her affinity to the water, inspiring as it was beautiful, and soothing to the soul. Standing there that morning, he realized he would never be able to look at the ocean again without thinking of her, and somehow he was still comforted by that thought.

I like to believe magic is all around us, finding its way into everyday life one miracle at a time.