1. She runs careful fingers along the clockface, tweaking the mechanics inside with feather-light touches of her mind.

2. They graze the atmosphere on a dare, watching flames lick along the hull before pulling away.

3. His apartment is layered with music, each room singing its own separate tune, and she marvels at how the sounds gently weave together along the edges, never discordant, but never quite in harmony.

4. “I think you meant this for someone else.”

“If I did, why would I offer it to you?”

5. Massive cocoons the length of her hand cover the tree limbs in disorganized clusters. The faint yellow silk is sticky and smells sharply of mint, but she knows better than to touch. Like spiderwebs, the silks are interlinked and any vibration will send their guardians scurrying down out of the canopy to attack.

~*~*~*~

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