The Spellshop

But I do know books—and that meant there was nothing she couldn’t know, eventually. That was a magic in and of itself.

She remembered how much she used to love the statue of the mermaid at the center of the fountain.

Halfway down, the wind pulling at her hair, she felt unglued,
like a book whose pages had scattered on the floor. She couldn’t shake the sense that if she released the railing, she’d fly into the air like a bird … Which would be ridiculous, she told herself firmly