He told her he’d bring her a piece of iceberg. That’s all she really wanted.
Joe felt the warmth from the translucent box tingling in his shirt pocket. It was a strange sensation – not one he had ever experienced before. It was as though a delicate electricity was shocking him from the inside out, but the pulses lingered and danced around in his abdomen. Gentle waves of heat tickled his skin and though he had to suppress the urge to swat away what felt like a million tiny flies, the warmth was comforting in the cool drizzle.
The gardener who had given him the box had warned him that the magic could cause a strange reaction when in the possession of the non-magical for so long. The slender man, with his hollow eyes and knobby fingers, told him anything was possible. But, as a magical being himself, he had never experienced what “anything” was, so he had nothing to prepare him for. Why he had so easily agreed to let Joe take the box, Joe did not know.
Joe looked down and saw an indigo hue pulsing from his pocket. He quickly clasped his hands over it in attempts to draw any unwanted attention away from him. Why he did this, he did not know. Nobody was around.
“Stop that,” he muttered to the small box. He didn’t know why he said it but it just came out of his mouth. The elderly man peered cautiously over his shoulder out of embarrassment. Surely if there was anybody in the vicinity, if the glow didn’t draw their attention, an elderly man muttering to his pocket would. The crisp silence encircled him and the wave of embarrassment he felt only moments earlier washed across him and dissipated into the cool air, then carried away by a gust of wind. Joe used one hand to clutch his pocket and the other to grasp his grey hat. He had come too far to lose either of them.
“Ah! Dangit!” Joe stuttered as his hand shot off his pocket in response to a sharp energetic pain. The humid breeze cooled the palm of his hand instantly. The sensitivity lingered so he reached down to button the pocket up with his other hand. Following the brief snap of the metal buttons, he felt the rough brim of his hat slide across his forward, propelled forward by the force of the determined wind.
“No!” Joe hollered. He jumped into the air as his arms frantically scrambled to reach the swirling grey hat. The wind carried the hat towards him and let it dance gently on his fingertips before whipping it away, taunting him.
