I am at the bar, Scotch in my hand. It had been a long strange day. I thought that a stiff drink might take the edge off. Little did I know, things were going to get stranger. And my drink was going to be chiefly to blame.

A pig-tailed little girl sat down on the stool beside me. She looked like she was about six.

“Frank! Make it a double this time. It happened again.” It was the voice of a chain-smoking lumberjack coming from the body of a little pink dress wearing girl.

The bartender came over, set her drink down on the bar. “You’ve got to get this checked out. People are talking. I don’t want cops coming in here because they heard talk of a little girl buying booze from Frank.”

“I know, Frank. I know. I’m trying.”

He backed away, with an “I sure hope so” look on his face.

I had been staring at my drink for the whole conversation. I blame the Scotch for what happened next. “Need some help?” I rejected those words as soon as they left my lips.

She turned to look at me.

“Do you believe in magic?”

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