The Society of Unknowable Objects

by Gareth Brown

“I think it comes from not eating much when I was a child,” James continued. “I wasn’t very well for much of my childhood.” “Oh?” she asked, concerned. He waved a hand, dismissing her worry, and then ducked his head under a tree branch hanging low over the path. “All in the past, I’m fine now. But I spent most of my childhood in bed and surviving on chicken noodle soup. My mother believed chicken noodle soup would cure all ailments.” “Funny,” Magda reflected. “I think the same thing about cake.”

“Hand it over,” the man said, stepping out into the night, “and I won’t kill you. I don’t need to kill you. You’re just making me do it.” Magda smiled grimly, an expression of anger rather than amusement, and this time when she spoke her voice trembled with the weight of the fear and fury she felt, like rails vibrating beneath a speeding train. “Why do men like you always blame other people for your own choices?”

He reflected that sometimes things could still surprise him. Despite his many years knowing about magic, it could still catch him off guard, like hearing a really good song from a shitty boy band. Sometimes seemingly impossible things did occur.