I thought magic was just make believe
He blinked. Another thought trailing through his head like a rabbit burrowing down a bunny hole.
Through his eyes the whole story unrolls in a glance of telling magic. Everything looks different from here . . .
Brown, dark, coal-colored brown are these two alike. Lively, to tell the short end, and brave, to tell the long.
He blinked.
An other young man perched upon the other side of a window caught his blinks. The door slithered open under the hand of a hot day, uncurling waves of windy cold coming to meet our blinking friend.
This “other”, of origins untold, met this entering soul with a charming smile . . . disarming. Other, as we’ve named him, comes to grips with the interesting being a few paces forth. Other puts a finger on a deck of cards, his wandering hand patting the stream of numbers and faces oddly falling into place.
Michael blinked.
He blinked again.
Assembling fact from observation rivets such eyes as his. They spin inside his head.
“Care to sit?” Other’s handsome features dip, kindly revealing his intrigue of the visitor.
Michael’s head shook, cordially accepting the invitation with an eager air, completely enthralled by the cards in the young man’s hand.
“You like magic?” Other’s sky blue eyes dance as the pitter patter of card feet flies through the air.
Michael’s eyes respond more than the shaking of his cranium speaks. Eyes, the brown duo, shriek a pleasing yes as they crease.
“Okay . . . watch closely.”
Other waves a few cards from the stained table, clearing his throat with the simplest of coughs. Michael’s tense expression holds itself still, a little furrow shadowing his brow in tender lines.
His brown eyes squint.
The card disappeared.
Vanished.
Gone.
Excitement.
Intrigue.
Wonder.
The screw on Michael’s jaw unwinds slowly as if to give a leash to his speechless tongue. Nothing forms words.
A warm laugh unfurls from Other’s throat with a, “You like that, huh?”
With a few open-mouthed shakes of his head, Michael proceeds to keep vigil of the deck in Other’s meek hands.
“Okay . . . watch closely.”
Michael’s intent stare breaks from the card for a moment, traveling up the young man’s highlighted face with such wonder as to stir magic to its highest momentum . . . tumbling magic into reality. Other’s eyelashes cascade over such eyes as were unique to blue . . . soft and full of another world.
Michael’s sight dashes back to the lively display efflorescing from the cunning fingers of the magician.
But, what makes this exchange so special is that this character called Other, though obscurely outlined, is quite well-known to you. Though, you may wonder as to where you met him . . . in some distant land . . . as if by magic.
And, what makes this exchange truly magical is that this character called Michael—
The card disappeared.
Vanished.
Gone.
No questions asked.
Excitement.
Wonder.
Other’s lips purse in a simple simper.
“I thought . . . magic . . . was just make believe.” Michael’s mouth moves.
Other’s eyes close in light of a wonderful smile.
And, what makes this exchange truly magical is that this character called Michael—sees through autistic eyes.
Through his eyes the whole story unrolls in a glance of telling magic. Everything looks different from here . . .
Brown, dark, coal-colored brown are these two alike. Lively, to tell the short end, and brave, to tell the long.
He blinked.
