It’s ten o’clock. I’m letting Nicholas out one last time. I stand just beyond the open doorway as he trots out into the backyard and sniffs at the grass under the white glow of paper lanterns hanging from the studio roof.
Now, something catches his eye. Nicholas takes off, running. His furious high-pitched barking chases something across the shadowy yard. It’s a small, white spot, bright in the reflected glow of the security lamp, and it flies just above Nicholas’ head.
My automatic “Hey-hey-hey!” (which I’m sure the neighbors appreciate as much as the barking) cuts off as the bright little spot Nicholas is chasing bobs up, sweeps in an arc overhead, and comes tracing back toward me, before it—blink—disappears altogether.
My immediate thought: Nicholas was chasing a fairy.
Across the lawn, Nicholas has done what he’s going to do and he’s running to me, now, and I know that probably what really happened is that he saw a squirrel on the fence, took off after it, and the glowing spot of magic was just a bug flying in the air in the middle of the yard in a way that, at my angle, at my distance, made it look like Nicholas was chasing it.
I'm still going with fairy.
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