The blurry figure in black turned out to be quite the magician. He decided the best way to deal with me was to turn into a mallard duck and turn me into a fuzzy rabbit. With a wave of his hand, we could truly converse in that very strange way that animals do. He flew and I hopped up a short staircase and into a crowded house, in hopes of finding temporary shelter from the onslaught of rain out in The Woods. I stuck my tongue down his throat and knew that we would be friends from here on out.
“I don’t believe in love,” he uttered awkwardly.
I didn’t quite believe him but perhaps that was my own sweet, sweet naiveté. I paused and looked at him for a little too long, then shook my head. We would know more about each other in time.
“This beating, awful thing in our bodies is more than just an appendage! Yours went through a meat grinder and mine went through a paper shredder but these pieces can always be retrieved and taped back together!” I cried, trying hard to believe in my own words.
“Eventually, the process, once repeated, creates too many fragile and microscopic shreds and the tape begins to loose its hold. My mending tricks and healing spells can only work so many times, my magic diminishes as the years pass. I’m not saying this out of depression, really…it’s more of pure exhaustion,” The Magician admitted.
I silently acknowledged his position and the position that most hold at critical times in their lives. It made sense. I was young, but it made sense. I vomited unresolved issues in the corner of a dark room. Outside, tree leaves were glittering with dew. I looked behind me and just like that, he was gone.
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