I stayed past closing that evening and set my circle up by the reference desk, where I’d first met the kid, if kid he could truly be called. The trail was cold now, of course, and muddled by the thousands of people who’d passed through that space since, but it was still the best chance I had.
I drew the circle with chalk–which would bemuse the circulation supervisor in the morning, I knew–set out the water and the salt, and laid the feather with an iron needle taped to it in the circle’s middle.
Doesn’t everyone keep such things in their desk drawers?
Tags: postcard stories, the fey child
