Ticket 1207 by Robin Alexander Page B

soon?”
    “Not for me.”
    Jill smiled. “But no sock for you, Dobby. He was a creature in the Harry Potter movies who could only be freed if his master gave him clothing,” she explained when Shawn’s brow shot up.
    “You watch Harry Potter!” Shawn exclaimed and slung batter onto the counter. “I’ve got all the movies and the books, too.” She lowered her voice. “I’ve got a sorting hat.”
    Jill’s “What” was guttural. “I’ve got a wand!”
    Shawn cocked her head. “Aw, we’re both dorks, that’s so cool.”
    “I’m gonna get my wand,” Jill said as she ran out of the room.
    Shawn fished the vial out of her pocket and stared at it a moment. “Is this wrong?” she wondered aloud softly. “She’s got a freaking wand! Screw it, I’ll do us both.” She ripped the cork off the vial and poured all the contents into the batter, but wretched guilt stole her joy. How fair was it to basically cast a spell over Jill? Shawn wondered.
    Very carefully, she tried to scoop out what she’d poured in, but whatever was in Theo’s love cocktail had already been absorbed by the batter. She debated on pouring it out but had used the last of the mix in the box. She nearly jumped out of her skin when Jill came bounding into the kitchen wearing a pair of Harry Potter glasses and waving a wand.
    Shawn licked her lips. “I know it’s wrong, and I feel really dirty saying it, but you just got so much hotter.”
    *******
    Shawn’s apartment smelled of pine. She hadn’t decorated, either, except for a small pine bough in the middle of her kitchen table. It was flocked with fake snow and dressed in silver bells with a red bow. Jill was supposed to be digging through the kitchen for anything they could add to their feast while Shawn showered. Instead, she roamed around looking at Shawn’s things.
    Judging by the contents of Shawn’s pantry, she loved peanut butter, almond butter, sugary cereal, and bread. A search of the freezer resulted in a score when Jill found one Cornish hen. It wasn’t turkey, but it was as close as they were going to get to one. Jill set it in the sink to thaw and gazed at Sticker sporting a tiny sombrero that probably came off the top of a tequila bottle. She poked at it and realized Sticker was plastic.
    “Well, yes, you are low maintenance,” she said before wandering into the living room.
    There was no TV. The sofa was dark brown leather. The accompanying recliner didn’t match, at least not in Jill’s opinion, as she ran her hand over the burgundy fabric. It was easy to tell that Shawn spent a lot of time in it. A laptop sat on the table beside it, along with unopened mail and a pair of reading glasses. But what really caught Jill’s attention was the framed photo of a man with a little girl with a head full of light brown hair sitting on his lap.
    “Oh, it’s you, how cute,” Jill said as she gazed at the child’s light blue eyes. She was dressed in footie pajamas covered in snowflakes, a cookie in her hand.
    “That’s my grandfather,” Shawn said as she leaned against the doorjamb, wrapped in a robe, her hair wet.
    “He’s a handsome fella, but you were absolutely adorable.”
    Shawn smiled. “I wasn’t allowed to eat sweets as a kid. The sugar made me crazy. Grandpa always made sure I had at least one cookie when I went to his house. My grandma snapped that picture, she spoiled me rotten, too. Come see the quilt she made me.”
    Shawn had shown Jill around the apartment, but not the bedroom. Jill followed her, eager to see the most intimate place in one’s home. It smelled like Shawn, fresh and clean. The headboard of her bed was a series of black cubes that held keepsakes like the Hogwarts sorting hat, a jar of coins, and a stuffed cat that looked like a dog had gnawed on it. One cube held books.
    Jill ran her hand over the quilt. “She made this out of your old clothes, didn’t she? I see the footie pajamas you had on in that picture.”
    “It was her last,”