#Writever 22 — Miracle
And. Like that. The purple glow around the creature's flesh snapped. Sticks, bits of crow-gathered metal, pastel river pebbles, and broom straw crashed and rolled across the burnt dance studio floor. Darkness lifted and afternoon sun streamed through the shattered windows. A breeze wafted in cherry blossom from the rustling trees outside and brimstone dissipated. In the end we'd fought off the demon trying to eat Mina for the last month with scissors duct-taped to a tripod, but our magic intertwined did it. She was half forest spirit and wholly human. Together we'd wanted to—hoped to—capture the demon; tried; but dead was safer, safer for her. I'd never lift the curse I suffered, now.
Her hand trembled over mine. "It's over?"
"It's over."
"Really?"
I nodded. "We can go back. To school." I felt loneliness descending. "To just being neighbors again."
Blue eyes scanned down from mine, at my chest, lower down, then up. I was still a woman, from now to forever. She let go of the tripod; so did I and it dropped with a aluminum and rubber clatter, as her smile softened. I expected loss. I felt loss, but her smile softened. She asked, "So there's no needing to protect me any more? No magical excuses for propriety, purity? No hiding?"
I sighed. Nodded. My childhood friend, whom I trained in secret to save, was safe. I missed us and the before we'd lived already.
Her embrace came so suddenly, so tightly, so warmly she knocked my breath away. My back struck the mirrored wall, followed by my skull. What her lips did next had me struggling, though I didn't want to, not completely, not entirely.
I needed to breathe!
"Mina, Mina! Please. I'm cursed. I'm not whole—"
She held me at arms-length, angered, then smiling again, tears streaming. "You're you. Whatever is on the outside, it's you on the inside. You! It's you! And, that's all that matters to me, and, and I'm not holding back what I feel any longer—"
I thought, /So this is what a miracle feels like./
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