There's something uniquely terrifying about watching your eldest child discover they have the power to reshape reality, especially when they're sixteen and convinced they know everything.
I stood in the wreckage of what had once been Stella's bedroom, surveying the damage with the weary resignation of a mother who had been through similar magical adolescent outbursts with varying degrees of catastrophe.
The walls were now a shimmering silver that seemed to pulse with its own heartbeat, the ceiling had somehow become transparent to reveal the night sky complete with what appeared to be actual stars, and every piece of furniture was floating exactly three feet off the ground."She's been like this for two hours," Dante said from behind me, his voice carrying the careful neutrality he used
