I know this place, she thought...I've been here before. But like a name of a friend that you knew when you were a child and haven't seen since, the mention of this place was on the tip of her tongue. And yet a mystery to her at the same time.
Bill was panting, doubled over and breathing hard in excitement. He had a grin on his face and he looked alive and full of joy. He was beaming!
But Dolly felt exhausted. Spent. The excitement and the electricity of the night she had felt zipping through the air had drained her of everything. She thought about grabbing onto Ranwell's arm to help steady herself, but resisted.
"It's okay," Ranwell told her. "If you need to steady yourself, here." He offered her his arm, but she only shook her head.
Bill barked out laughter and stood up. "That was...! That was amazing! I've always wanted to do that, always. Since I was a little boy, I always wanted to try that!"
Brason was nodding his head, as if he knew.
Dolly was a bit jealous. Here was Bill, shouting out and laughing he couldn't contain himself. Why was this so hard for her? What was going on here? Was this judgment?
"Here," Brason told Bill, and extended his hand. Dolly watched intently. Bill reached out, and Brason dropped fine golden sand into the palm of Bill's hand. It was beautiful. Gold dust. It gleamed with its own inner-light. She could see sparkles in it as Brason trickled it from his hand into Bill's. "These are the days of your life," Brason told him. "Each one accounted for. Each one numbered."
Ranwell was smiling dreamily, and watching. Dolly looked to him, and he seemed to snap out of it. "Oh, I'm sorry!" He dug in his pocket, and his fingers fished in there for a long time.
Brason sighed.
He's going to tell me that he dropped mine, Dolly thought. Or it all blew out of his pocket while we were flying through the air. That's the kind of angel I got. Clumsy, wearing glasses with only one lens. That my kind of luck. Now I'll either have to sit with my back against a wall watching Bill get his business done or Ranwell is going to fly me home and leave me wondering what all of this is about.
But Ranwell pulled his hand out of his pocket eventually and offered it to Dolly. "These," he told her with an excited smile, "are your days. All numbered and accounted for, you can count them again if you want."
As he poured the sand into Dolly's hand, she suddenly felt life and excitement spilling into her flesh like a stain growing on a rug. She grinned a polite grin and felt the texture of the sand on the flat of her palm. She was thinking a million things, but the only thing to come out was a whispered single word: "Beautiful!"
"Cast it at the wall," Brason said. No, he commanded.
(your turn
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