Real Magic
a Cascading Rainbow drabble
Even looking at her pained him sometimes. Her broad smile contrasted so greatly with the grim stares he so often received at work. How could she remain so peaceful? Her world was a wonderland of butterflies and real magic. She could exist without having to even consider the painful side of reality.
How could he live, when someday she would have to abandon that chrysalis threaded from childhood dreams? How could he die, knowing that it would mean leaving her forever? But he had to admit that his little girl was growing up. He may not want her to, but she was.
Imagining her flying away into the cruel, dark night, when nothing was impossible, struck an anguished chord in the back of his throat. He wanted to protect her. But how could he, when in these times, nothing was ever absolute?
His train of thought was interrupted when a small voice called from outside the office door: "Daddy?" He pushed his glasses further up and opened the door.
"What is it?" His tone was gentle.
The small child's very existence exuded cheerfulness, and as she wordlessly climbed into her father's lap to embrace him tightly, the world seemed together again.