With enough practice, Reba taught me I could do more than lift heavy objects. “Go on,” she said, my shirt shifting as she spoke through the cotton-poly blend, “Walk into traffic.” I worried that this was her way of finally triumphing, but she could sense my concerns through the fabric. “No, you stupid cow: walk into traffic and channel everything I taught you.” I ambled into the street, cars and buses and tractors barreling through at seventy miles an hour. As I clenched my fists I could feel a golden orb radiate from every direction–and when I finally opened my eyes, hundreds of vehicles were suspended dozens of feet in the air, the bewildered piss of nonbelievers raining from the sky. She laughed, knowing that she finally strengthened a foe so they would ultimately be more fun to vanquish.
Keegan Shepherd 