First Impressions

Precautions had to be taken. Plans had to be made. Everything had to be just so.

In a state of adolescent hormonal frenzy I fled my grandfather’s home to my own, and rechecked every entrance a dozen times. My twitching hand scrawled the various schedules for the fourth time: dad at work, mom at the nursing home with Nanna, and Carry at Brad’s. The house, the amulet, the girl, and the dream were mine.

Except for one little problem, how do I summon her? Still, with dogged determination I retired to the master bedroom (first impressions are everything) and set my whole mind and soul to the task.

“Excelsior! Sha-zam! Open Sesame! Abraca-Imadoofus.” I tried others. I tried a lot. In the end I then flopped onto the end of the bed, tossed the amulet down, yelling, “Come out!

So she did. No smoke. No flash. No lights. Just a girl, cat ears, silky fur, and a tail, but still a girl, a girl with the saddest eyes I had ever seen. Until that moment, I hadn’t known how a breaking heart felt.

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