My grandfather wrote stories.

That’s what they told me when I was a child. Or, rather, that’s what my chauffeur told me. He was the only one I dared to ask. Nobody liked talking about grandfather. Yet, everyone must’ve loved thinking about him; he was on everyone’s mind. My Mom’s. My Dad’s. My teacher’s.

The chauffer, though – his head just seemed empty. The way his finger carelessly tapped against the steering wheel… if it wasn’t to the beat of his own drum, it was to that Jammin’ Ninja CD he always had lying around. He seemed to have barely a care in the world.

Which made him careless.

And carless people talked.

Why, then, had he told me something so ridiculous?

“What kinds of stories?” I probed.

“Stories for children.” he said.

“Like what?” It had to have been a joke.

“The kind children like. The kinds only they can really believe in.”

He chuckled. “I don’t think I believe in anything.”

He looked in his rear-view mirror. “Aren’t we edgy?”

“What kinds of stories?” I persisted. “And why hasn’t anyone told me any?”

“Oh, I’m sure they have.” even as a child, I couldn’t help but notice the venom on his tongue.

“I don’t like fairy tales.” I murmured.

“And yes,” he sighed, “some kind of magic probably exists in this world. No real other way to explain it.”

“You’re not makin’ any sense, old man.”

He said nothing.

I huddled up in the back seat. School ended early today. I didn’t feel like going home. I liked the smell of leather. The sound of rain tapping against the roof. I knew I wouldn’t be able to hear that in my room. The walls were too thick.

“Can you drive for a bit longer?” I asked. “Just, in circles, or somethin’?”

He smiled. “Sure thing, kiddo.” His hand reached for the cracked Jammin’ Ninja CD case.

“Put it on and you’re dead.”

“Oh? Maybe I think I’ll live forever.”

“Think there’s no magic all you want.” I said. “But when you’re dead – you’re dead.”

He laughed.

I closed my eye.

As dusk settled in, and the store lights blended with the dying light, and the moon twisted its shape in the limo’s blurred windows, I felt safe to dream, if only for a little bit.