One
Hand. Invisible brick. Hand. Invisible brick. Slide hand, and twirl. Tuesday Collins pressed her hands against an invisible brick wall that she imagined was a bright, blazing yellow. Tilting her head at a young woman with red hair pulled into two braids, Tuesday lowered herself to a crouched position and felt around an illusioned box. The redhead arched a brow at Tuesday, paused, and scrambled on by. Tuesday sighed and slumped her shoulders in mock disappointment.
As a man with salt and pepper hair walked her way, Tuesday’s fingers fumbled inside her black and white striped sleeves and plucked out a glittery, pink orchid. She hopped off the step in front of the man and held the flower out to him.
The corners of the man’s eyes wrinkled into a smile. “No, thanks.”
Tuesday gestured to
