There is a little spark that swims gaily from life to life and it enters through the ears. It massages your consciousness into the shape that it deems most fit to deliver your dreams and wastes no time in moving on to the next frustrated child.
Once awake this morning, my eyes fall directly on the cat chewing playfully on the remains of the spark. I collect the wet, sparkly bits and place them in a small Tupperware bowl, which goes directly into the freezer.
The rest of the day is spent on the computer and on the telephone. There is no overseeing municipal agency for the management of fairies. There is no lobby for the maintenance of magic.
The frozen spark shines safely and bright as ever as I grab for some ice cubes.
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