Us Dream Girl Part 2: Spells R

I just said yes. Want me to continue with Part 3 or write an alternate ending?

I hadn't cast the spell. My roommate, Marcus, had—as a joke. "Spells R Us: Dream Girl Edition," he'd said, waving the kit like a game show prize. "One incantation, one lock of your hair, and boom—your perfect woman appears for 24 hours. No strings."

Then she was gone—like morning fog burning off.

She glanced over her shoulder, smiled. "Because you wished for someone who knows you, Leo. Not just someone pretty." She slid a pancake onto a plate. "The spell gave you what you asked for." spells r us dream girl part 2

That was the problem.

By noon, Nora had finished three of my sentences, laughed at a joke I'd only thought, and cried during a commercial for pet adoption because she felt how much I wanted a dog but was too scared to commit.

At 5:47 a.m., she kissed my forehead and said, "Don't cast this spell again. Next time, just tell a real girl you like cinnamon coffee." I just said yes

Not a dream. Not a hallucination. Nora—summoned less than twelve hours ago from a dusty spell book and a questionable amount of belief—was real. Her hair caught the morning light like honey in a jar. She hummed something that wasn't a real song but felt like one I'd forgotten.

Here’s a short piece continuing the Spells R Us Dream Girl concept, picking up where a magical “dream girl” spell might lead. The fine print always gets you.

By 6 p.m., the candles from the spell started flickering again—unsolicited. Nora froze mid-sentence, her eyes glazing over. When she came back, she looked smaller. My roommate, Marcus, had—as a joke

By 3 p.m., I tried to call Marcus. Voicemail.

And two months later, when a barista with honey-colored hair asked if I wanted cinnamon in my coffee, I didn't say "How did you know?"