Back When I Believed in Magic

Photo by benjamin lehman on Unsplash

The wrinkly, red-faced man nodded at me: “Take it. You’ve been staring at it long enough.” I’d wandered away from my mom in a nondescript convention center hosting a gemstone exhibition in some mid-sized German town. I’d been looking at the golden-yellow citrine stones, running my fingers over the smooth surfaces. “This stone dissolves fear. You need it. Pick one.” He didn’t say it especially friendly, more resigned like there was some…