Category: issue 9

The dubious shelter of native prairie grasses let Dandy believe—momentarily—that she was being ridiculous. “Dandelion!” His voice held a condescending calm as measured and heavy as his footsteps. She’d never told him her name. No one called her Dandelion but her mother. Some quick, invasive googling would explain it, though. And would turn up the car she drove and her trail volunteer schedule.

I’m not going to ignore this, but I’m not going to call my doctor either. Not yet. The last time I made an appointment, it got scheduled weeks out, and the problem had cleared up by the time I arrived. I paid money just to look like a hypochondriac explaining what had been going on. Instead, I’ll keep an eye on it. I’ll even take some photos on my phone—document their progress. If my ears get any longer, or hairier, then I’ll call.

Chloe stared through the car window at the darkening skies and despaired at their cloudlessness. So much for Vancouver’s perpetual rain. The moon hung large and round above the treetops.

Every heart pulsed a lazy rhythm one rainy Friday evening as I stood huddled in the mass of commuters waiting for the Red Line. Every heart, that is, but one. Tendrils of my magic, invisible to everyone but me, picked the owner out from the crowd.