Magic, Neon…a short story.
“Where are you going?” he asked, stepping from behind the counter.
“I’m going in here, where the magic happens,” she said, reaching for the doorknob. “Where does it look like I’m going?”
“You can’t go in there, it’s for employees only.”
“No it’s not. There’s no sign that says it for employees only.”
“Well, it is.”
“You just made that up.”
“Did not,” he said.
“Did too.”
“You won’t like it in there.”
“How do you know. If there’s magic in there I want to see it, or be part of it.”
“No you don’t.”
“Stop telling me what I want to do, or what I will like. I bought a ticket and…”
“You bought a ticket into the bar, not into that room.”
“I want to speak to the manager.”
“I’m the manager,” he said, standing straighter.
“No you’re not. You’re too young to be the manager.”
“That’s not true,” he said. “I’m…preconscious.”
“Oh, give me a break,” she sighed. “I’m going in.”
She turned the handle, jiggled it, leaned into it, but the door wouldn’t open.
“It’s locked. Open it!” she demanded.
“No.”
“What kind of magic is in there?”
“You wouldn’t recognize it.”
“How do you know what I would recognize?” she asked, her hands on her hips.
“It’s new. Anyway, the magic happens in the bar.”
“No it doesn’t, there’s just a bunch of people in there getting drunk and looking for anyone who will make them feel better about themselves.”
“That’s the magic,” he said softly.
“What?”
“The magic happens when people meet other people who make them feel okay. The okay part is the magic.”
“That’s not magic, that’s alcohol, dark lightening and music.”
“All of those things are magic,” he said.
“That’s not new magic, then, it’s old magic,” she said. “People have been using those things since forever.”
“I know, but they still work.”
She leaned against the door. “What’s really behind this door?”
“It’s a store room. We keep the extra napkins, glasses and things in there.”
“Oh.”
“Sorry to disappoint you.”
She nodded. “Me too.”
“Did you really think there was magic in there?” he asked.
“I guess I was hoping there was.”
“So you believe in magic?”
“I do,” she said, making a frog appear on her palm. “Don’t you?”
“How’d you do that?” he asked.
“Well, it was nice meeting you,” she said. “Even if you use false advertising.”
“It’s not false, it’s true. Just not the way you expected it to be.”
“You can keep the frog,” she said, walking away. “He used to be my old boyfriend. His name is Gregory, but you can call him anything you like.”
He watched her leave, then turned to the frog.
“Gregory?”
“What,” said the frog.
Rethinking Life 
Written
on February 3, 2022