Five-year-old Netty knew every line of Wizal the Wizard by heart. But how did he turn the rock into gold? How did he turn the tree into a mountain? How did he make the dead bird sing again?
Then, just like that, magic began flowing from Netty’s fingers.
With a wave of her hand, she made a rainbow.
She brought her missing father home from the war.
She healed her Nana of dementia.
Didn’t she?
No… croaks fifty-year-old Netty through her respirator. That was decades ago, when wizards existed and she was a little girl who believed.
