Surprises

I have been alone for a month now. My husband left for the police academy and since then, I have been going through the motions of daily life very comfortably. I like being alone. He's gone and I feel free. I'm so miserable when he is around. Nothing is good enough for him. I clean, I cook, and I shower him with gifts, but misery loves company so that it can beat the life out of it's companion. I'm working up the courage to file for a divorce. I'm not sure why I stay.

It was a Tuesday when I took a day off from work to stay at home and write. I had been working on sitting down and writing last week at Bianca's when I had a very bizarre experience. This experience could have really happened, and I'm inclined to think so, but nothing has happened since to suggest that I actually met her. Her name was Lacy and she was gorgeous. I smoked some nasty concoction of herbs and salts, which wasn't like me at all. After a few seconds, I was introduced to my muse. She looked more like a model who walked straight out of a magazine. She was blonde and looked very comfortable in her long sweater. Her cowgirl boots still stick out in my mind.

Today, I am hoping to find out more. I have the smoke leather pouch that I found in Bianca's father's office and I am going to give it a shot.

***

"Grant, darling?" Lacy drug out the arling to be cute and Grant tried to resist her.
"What?" He tried to stay as straight faced and stoic as possible, but the smile the spread across her face suggested he had failed.
" I need your help again. And I know, I know, last time it went a little wrong, but this time will be different. I want you to go as a human, with me. And no, you don't need to waste any of your power on her. I just need proof for her."
"Proof?"
"She's not convinced. I know the look on her face. It is a natural defense mechanism to just assume all strange activity in reality are actually manifestations of the imagination. Believe me, when she sees what you can do and we just sit down and talk with her it will work." Lacy looked a pure model of confidence as she slipped her boots back on and slip out from the booth. Grant had been working on something, which he promptly hid when she had invited herself to his table. Grant raised his eyebrows expecting her to spill more, and her impatience to get out of the restaurant suggested he was right to expect more.

Lacy straightened her clothes and avoided eye contact. She couldn't do it for long however, so she looked up and dumbly pretended she didn't have more to ask of him.

"I know there is more, but let me do you a favor and guess." Lacy pretended to be offended but let him speak anyway. "You want me to come along so that this time you can stay solid so she can see you. Last time might have been a fluke, but I know that when a god runs into a human like I have, they are supposed to run and never look back. I'm not even sure she see us. I never used my powers to appear to humans."

"And I don't have those powers so I need to borrow yours, please." Lacy knew she could order him to do it. She was his guild master. But she also knew with a little pleading he would do it for her willingly. She batted her eyes and made pouty lips. Grant wasn't easily persuaded by the show, but he did have time in his day. To be honest, he knew his powers were going to be called on more than once and his goals were to fit in, not get kicked out. He wanted to help Lacy, but it seemed that Lacy had been in too deep with this one. She was always getting into trouble with this charge and he could see the dark circles started under Lacy's eyes, which were proof she was being drained of her powers trying to fix the situation, leaving less power to set up the glamour of her outside appearance.

"Ok," he sighed loudly, pretending to be put out. "Let's go. I don't have all day."

She jumped and squealed and hugged him tight. "You are such a great friend." She grabbed her oversized purse, he grabbed his brief case and papers, and they vanished into thin air.

***

Ryla sat at her dining room table. She had picked up the mail and a newspaper. The newspaper had nothing of extreme importance on the front page, but she thumbed through the pages just to do something while she drank her hot coffee and ate her toast. Sometimes just picking up a paper gave her silly ideas or little mini plots for writing. If you want to be a good writer, be an excellent reader.