Where Light in Darkness Lies

“Okay. Show me your balls.”

“Cheeky,” said Tarren, pouting his lips at Grace, his best friend. He opened his palm to reveal the small rubber balls concealed there. Making a performance of the chimera.

“Impressive!” she exclaimed, fascinated by the conjuring trick. “But why are we sitting on your bathroom floor?”

“The acoustics are better here.” He placed the balls back under one of the three plastic cups to resume the illusion.

“It’s gloomy here,” said Grace, lighting a candle. “Wasn’t your father a magician?” She asked, broaching this topic coyly.

“The only thing my father made disappear was himself when he abandoned my mother and me,” Tarren mumbled, unable to mask his anger.

A flash of pain seared across his forehead. Through the smoky ambiance, a fragment of a memory transported Tarren back to when he had nearly drowned. He experienced that stifling sensation again. The vacuum caused by his father’s absence was akin to water cascading over him. The reminiscence evoked a terror of the pressure pounding over his head. He had survived, though.

He looked over to Grace. She had sensed his distress and put a gentle hand on his shoulder. He felt buoyed by her consolation.