The first time The Boy did magic, he called the birds. Then he got scared and conjured a bubble to catch them.
The Magic came easily. So did the birds. The Boy thought they would cover the sun and drown his sky. They were so shamelessly free.
Pop! Pop! Pop! A hundred soapy-feathered birds tumbled out of the bubble and flew away.
The Boy frowned and mumbled.
“I’m going to be a magician, Flopsy.”
The Rabbit twitched. She knew she would spend the rest of her days poking her delicate nose out of a top hat at children’s parties. Pop.