A five-minute sprint to start the day off strong.
She skipped down the lane. She had to stop when she found the rod. It was not what she expected. It did not sparkle. It did not imbue her with magic. It was just a rusty steel rod, discarded and forgotten.
She kept it anyway and skipped home and added it to her collection of Potentially Magical Things. Skipping was the proper way to find such things. Skipping lured in magic, she knew. Some day, a rod would be a wand or a cone would be a wizard’s hat or a shoe would be a portal to a new world. She kept keys and coins, shawls with tattered patterns and notebooks full of scribbled words.
He thought she was crazy. But really, that was fine. He could think what he wanted. It was no concern to her. People like him never encountered magic. They lacked the soul for it. It took a certain type of soul, the type that could skip, to lure in magic.
That’s a property of Potentially Magical Things, you know. They can pick out those humans, those Ordinary Things, that have a peculiar affinity for them. They sense a kindred soul, a skipping soul, and reveal themselves to those Ordinary Things. It unlocks the potential of both object and human.