May We Never Meet Again
The morning light poured gently through the wide glass windows, warming the marble floor of the Mills mansion.
Jennifer sat on the long sofa, her eyes following her two children — Melina and Samuel as they played in the living room.
Melina, full of energy and imagination, stood with her hands on her waist. “I told you, witches can fly! They can even fly from New York to California in just two minutes!” she declared, her face serious.
Samuel frowned, crossing his little arms. “That’s not true! Witches don’t fly, only birds fly. Even airplanes don’t move that fast, Melina!”