Back Again

EBONY’S POV:

I opened my eyes early in the morning. I drank my milk and sat with my parents having breakfast. They laughed together and nothing reminded me of these moments. I have been waiting for my father’s heart attack for two weeks now and it didn’t happen.

I checked my tattoo mark and it was there, just faint and impossible to notice.

“Sweetie, do you want more milk? You’ve been sipping on your glass while it’s empty,” my mother said.

Mom had long black hair and the palest, bluest eyes I’ve ever seen. They weren’t the normal typical blue. They were lighter and paler, as if they were diluted by white and became as blue as the sky early in the morning when the sun had finally settled in place.

“Yes, mom.”

And I was five.

I couldn’t believe that it worked. My father was sitting there, wearing glasses and reading his early morning newspapers. Our house was small and it was full of magical artifacts. Maybe because I was five, I didn’t remember them. Or maybe because a lot happened af