It’s just an old quart Mason Jar two-thirds filled with sand sitting in the corner, small shelf just above my desk as nondescript as artifacts go prominent display typical jar, ordinary sand, hand scooped by me – my hand, from shallow bottom Horseshoe Lake grandparents…

She opened her fan with a flair and with a wave she moved more than the air. The fan had powers imbued by a jinn. A wave toward her brought good fortune in. A wave outward could ward off bad luck. So as she cooled…