The girl and the boy traveled to many places. The girl had a habit of curling up sleeping on her side, and the boy would hold her as she slept. Every night before they found somewhere soft to nestle down for the night, the boy would place his battered sandals neatly beside his head, as he had always done to prevent them from washing away.

The girl felt more at ease in small, enclosed spaces, and the boy in the wide open with wind cutting across his cheek, so the boy stayed always on the outside, with one arm around the girl, and one behind his head.

As they slept little fireflies emerged from the girl's chest and danced around them, and soft yellow grass and dry pebbles grew from the ground beneath them. And in the morning, as the girl walked, she left a trail of cattails in her path, and flowers unfurled from right beneath her feet. When they encountered an abandoned city, the rubble beneath them smoothed itself out into effortless concrete with every step, and as they approached a withered tree, the tree burst into leaves and ripened with fruit.

The girl's soul swirled around them like a diffuse, orange flame. There was no longer any barrier between her and the rest of the world.

One day they spoke of tricks. And the girl became excited, and wanted to show the boy her favorite trick.

With her excitement her soul sparkled light yellow, and keeping carefully in that mood, she picked up a rock, and in her hands it turned to gold.

"See!" said the girl.

This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

The boy was puzzled.

"I don't hear anything different," he said. "Just the same, happy song of a mandolin."

The girl was miffed. She stuffed the rock into his hands.

"Oh!" said the boy. "It is colder. And smoother."

But it didn't seem that different from all of the other things that had ever transformed around the girl, and the boy wasn't sure what was so special about it.

"If only I could see," he said.

"If only I could hear," said the girl.

They were both silent.

"If you could see," said the girl, "what would you want to see?"

"I want to see the moonlight," said the boy, "and the setting of the sun. I want to see the wind, and I want to see you."

"Silly," scoffed the girl. "You can't see the wind." But she was pleased.

"I want to hear the ocean," she said, "and the song of the storms."

The boy was intrigued. He had never told this to the girl, but he could hear everything around him except himself. If the girl could hear as he did, he wondered what she would hear when she came close to him.

These thoughts brought him back to his days on the island, and he remembered something someone had told him, long long ago.

"I heard once that there is a mirror which grants wishes," he said.

The girl perked up.

"Wishes?" she said. "What sort of wishes?"

"Any wishes, I think," said the boy.

They were both silent a moment.

"Shall we find this mirror?"

"Okay."