“Scrittore or Scultura?”I tucked John Lennon’s guitar pick into a zippered compartment in my tiny purse. Then I carefully slid it into a hidden compartment in the back of my jewelry box. It was a cream-colored antique box my mum had given to me after my grandmum had died. It held all my prized possessions, including the small satin Marilyn Monroe purse I was given at The Magic Castle. Now the pick and purse would be safe and available to visit whenever I wanted to feel like anything was possible.
I heard the door open to my dorm room and quickly hid the sacred box under my bed before my roomie could see what I was up to.
“Welcome home Ali,” she yelled as she ran to me and wrapped her arms around me. “I missed you.”
“Really?” I said, “I thought you would be too busy to even notice I was
