I stared out the window, ignoring my reflection and the tears that rolled down my face, hot salty poison, fueled by my anger. Instead, I glared at the distant mountains stubbornly, trying to focus on anything other than the lump in my throat I was trying desperately to choke down, to stop my face from scrunching up and turning a dark shade of magenta, the way it always did when I was sad. I had everything and nothing in this life, I guess you could say. Completely ordinary, free from poverty or sickness. I’d been in love and I’d been in pain, but I’d never really experienced life to it’s fullest potential. Never done what I wanted. My lover had just walked out that door, the one we had painted blue and green to look like the cool summer steams and the mossy tree trunks of summer. He was now moving purposefully toward the mountains I’d been staring at for the past hour. Each kilometre he made was an additional slap to the face. He had told me that my story was made, I had nothing left to give him or anyone else in this place. What a retched human, who now strode toward the thing, I was now set on taking from him.
Many have magic in my world, experiencing everything in a more vibrant and exhilirating way. They can disappear on command, make plants grow with a single word and a smile, or even sustain friendly conversations with the neighbourhood cats. Most are born with the incredible gift, many believe it’s the only way to attain such an ability.
My life has been free from the whimsy and spark of magic. Sadly I was born without it. Though it has always been a thing I’d dreamt of for most of my childhood. I’ve decided I’m done with this simple life of mine. I wouldn’t let a horrible person I had shared so much time with ruin what I could become. That was my story, but I wanted a different one. I was going to find some magic… somewhere. I was going to take it.