The Serendipity (Only Magic in the Building)

by Emma St. Clair

“New subject. On a scale of Clooney to Hemsworth, how hot is the new building owner?”

And can you really trust a man who refuses a cookie? No. You can’t.

But then, my wardrobe has been a revolving door of yoga pants and pajamas for what feels like months, so I have no room to judge.

I always wanted to be a young mom. I thought I would be. Until those hopes came smash-crashing down—along

invested almost four years in our relationship. Our breakup was like hitting reset on my whole timeline. My whole life, really.

Archer comes to mind, and I briefly wonder if a lobotomy would effectively remove him—and

I just thought my life would be different by now. I almost had it all. Until I didn’t.

Time can soften the edges of the memory until it’s more a foggy Did that even happen? and less a solid reality.

It’s a really sad feeling when you realize a person you love doesn’t believe things you tell them.

I also want her to move out of the building. Possibly because I want to see more of her. Distance from a woman who intrigues me for no good reason seems like a safe bet.

kindness always seems to go hand in hand with pity, and there’s nothing I hate more.

I’m exhausted. Being tackled to evade an opossum attack will do that to a person.

Like a lingering bruise fading from angry purple to a sickly yellow. It’s still visible and hurts if you press down hard, but otherwise, it’s easy to forget.

yet somehow, despite wanting to avoid Archer like a resurgence of the Bubonic plague, he is everywhere I am over the next few days.

These are my emotional support when you run into your ex and also your sworn enemy you’re also attracted to lobsters.

If I were a stronger, mouthier woman who spoke comebacks out loud instead of replaying the moment with the perfect reaction hours later, I’d call after Trey and tell him to pick a different store because this one is mine.

I have met and surpassed my quota for mistakes this month,

What no one ever told me is that therapy is war. And while Judith is the one I feel like I’m waging war against, I know it’s actually me battling against myself.

moot

"moo point" actually

All I could see was his lack of understanding. It felt like being given some kind of loyalty test by a person you thought you’d already proven yourself to. A kick in the gut instead of a kiss.

“The Hokey Pokey” is now dead to me.

Kissing Willa feels like the bravest thing I’ve ever done.

“I, on the other hand, would be highly disappointed if I got Will Smith instead of you.”

Careful he might slap you

“Your UFO is blooming.” “Her UFO?” Archer asks. “Unidentified floral object,”

I think I could keep doing so forever.

I’m Willa—Willa the Person. His person.

You are more important.”

I may not believe in magic, but I believe in her.

“I’m just not sure love works on a specific timeline,” she says. “Days, weeks, years. I think it pretty much does whatever it wants. Like your closet.”

Love. This is love.