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Confessions of a Potterhead.No, it wasn't just a book/movie series for me; it was so much more than that. It was a place I could go to when I wanted to runaway. It was a magical place I could go and feel alive with friends. I could believe in everything, than anything was possible, even when there wasn't any light of hope left. I found comfort and security on Harry's side. I found loyalty and trust in Ron. I learned to be strong with Hermione. I learned to stand up against my enemies and my friends with Neville. Luna taught me that it's completely fine to not be like the others. Fred and George showed me that there's always humor in the most serious situations. Draco let me know I can learn from my bad decisions. Sirius taught me to say 'fuck the police' and look for justice. I learned that I can have all the power, like Albus Dumbledore, and still have my weak point. I learned how to love and be brave like Severus Snape.
When the real world was going down on me, I could open a book and escape to a new world. It'
Leaving me BreathlessPhew, finally finished.
At long last, I laid down my spanner and got back to my feet to admire my handiwork.
A maintenance check on the Ocean Tornado was never an easy task, but it had to be done. We needed to make sure that all the boats in our mini-fleet were in good condition, for you never know when one of them will be needed.
Wiping some sweat from my forehead, I turned to climb up the access ladder and stepped out on deck.
As usual, it was a hot and sunny day out at sea. With calm waves and no clouds in the sky, youd think the scenery was taken from a postcard.
We had stopped by a small island to let Blaze off so she could hunt for another Sol Emerald. If she found it, this would be the seventh, and wed only need the three missing Chaos Emeralds before we could finally go back to our own world.
Since we figured she could be a while, we decided to take a break and relax. At least, Sonic and Marine did. I meanwhile, was below deck tuning up the engine, as I
The Coffee GodThe Coffee God behind the counter shuffles foot to foot, a dance of steam and espresso. Black painted fingernails, inch gauged ears and a gray striped sweatshirt, hood crooked on his back. There's a cigarette tucked behind one ear; it bobs and twitches with each step.
“Non-fat caramel latte,” he calls, just as he always does, part of a spell, part of a mantra, toneless (just a tuck at the end). I reach. He looks up.
The espresso maker hisses.
There's something like a grin, something like a spark, something like a shared secret linked eye to eye. When he passes over the drink (rough cardboard sleeve hot to the touch), he lingers. Our fingers brush, a shiver, a jolt, a ten-watt shock.
The Coffee God tilts his chin, shouts, “Hey, mind if I take my break now?”
and ducks around the counter without waiting for a reply.
He slips his cigarette between his lips without taking his eyes from mine. I follow him out the door.
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