The world is a simple place to Jeannie. It is simple because, for her, everything that exists outside the colorful, cushioned chamber of her bottle begins and ends with Major Anthony Nelson.
She loves him, she loves him! He set her free.
She locks her arms around his neck and looks into his beautiful eyes and giggles at his uptight, red-faced exasperation.
The world is a tightrope to Tony. He walks a narrow, knotted line, forever worried that he will lose his way and plummet from his career in the skies to another sandy island. One which he will not come back from.
Jeannie is smoke. At the end of each day, she and her magic are just smoke. She is a pink plume—lovely, sweet cotton candy funneling through the air. He reminds himself of this when she blinks herself into his arms and kisses him.
Cotton candy is fine. Cotton candy is the perfect special treat at a carnival. At the right time, in the right place, enjoyed in occasional and appropriately portioned amounts, there is nothing wrong with cotton candy. Indulge too much, though, and you'd find yourself with a stomach ache.
Eat nothing else and eventually you wouldn't be able to survive. Not in the real world—the one with substance.
Jeannie wonders why Anthony continues to look at her the way he did when they first met. Often he will pause, his eyes seeming to become unfocused as they watch her. He will shut his eyes, then, and place his fingers over his eyelids, and he will rub at them as though there is some smudge on the lens of his glasses he needs to wipe off. But Anthony does not wear glasses. He is only crinkling thin skin, and that makes the ritual strange.
Honestly, Tony knows Jeannie is not real. He just doesn't have it in his head, or his heart, to convince her of that.
