Theme: 51; Magic
Characters: Roald, Kalasin
Words: 125
Autumn morning; the air is cool, the sky a pale eggshell blue. She follows her brother onto the balcony. He holds the wire frame in one hand, balances the plate in the other. You have to be gentle, he instructs, and she nods solemnly.
Carefully, he lifts the frame to his lips, and breathes.
The bubbles stream out into the air, one after another, like those born of the slipstream of some fantastical sea creature, twisting in the current.
Her eyes light up in wonder. She reaches out to touch them, mind buzzing with ancient spells and secret formulas-
-It's just soap and water, he says, shrugging.
She looks at him and her heart hurts. No, she wants to tell him. No. This is magic.