He had sharp cheekbones, neatly combed dark hair, and the kind of posture that screamed money and manners. He adjusted his tie and looked right at me. “Uncle Mike?
Is that really you?”
The last time I saw you, you were still into glitter pens and drawing cats on everything.”
I couldn’t help but laugh through the confusion. “And you were the guy who gave me a fountain pen for Christmas when I was, like, eleven. I thought it was a wand.”
He chuckled.
“Not far off. Pens can be powerful. And this time, I brought a different kind of magic.”Continue reading…
