When I met him hewas maintaining a dusty old book shop in Prague. Rare stuff, claimed toeven have some forbidden tomes, though I never found anything out of theordinary," I said to my rapt audience. "I was a regular customer, andeventually befriended him. He claimed knowledge of this ceremony, a spellthat predates known history, to be his most valuable possession. He wantedto pass it on, powerful and dangerous as it is, to ensure this small butremarkable bit of human achievement is never lost." Magic isn't like in the stories. It doesn't take deals with the devil ora lifetime of study. Anyone can learn it, even though it holds the powerto rearrange reality itself. This particular ritual transmutes a singleperson in body and soul. The core of who they are remains, but theyotherwise become someone new, someone they will always have been, someonethey always will be." Easily learned or not, magic isn't meant for mortal souls. The storieshave that part right. My teacher claimed to have. I lay her on her side and gently moved out of her, kissing her as we parted. I almost asked her right then. I wanted to and I thought that she just might let me. But, I simply couldn’t. Cathy’s eyes narrowed and she reached towards me, over me to grab under the closest bunch of flowers. There, she removed the last thing that I had brought. As my eyes went wide, she slowly brought the camera up to her face and took my picture on the blanket. I was so surprised I didn’t move and she laughed as she handed the camera to me. I took it but she didn’t let go. She raised an eyebrow so I did too and nodded. Only then did she release the camera, still staring at me, barely breathing. I waited patiently and she finally released my eyes and moved to gather the flowers from around the blanket. I set the camera down and d helped her, piling them all in the middle of the blanket, between us. Cathy then arranged her tableau as she wanted it: straightening the blanket, moving food containers,.
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