Christmas Eve day,
Maurice woke up on a couch in Angela's furniture room, at full size. To his
relief (and embarrassment), the footed pajamas he had borrowed from a Skipper
doll grew along with him, so he wasn't caught in the buff downstairs. More
important, his wings were gone.
He let out a howl of
jubilation and snapped his fingers to call his clothes to him. There were
things he wanted to do. The howl turned to dismay: he had about as much magic
as the dust bunnies underneath the couch.
When Angela came downstairs
a few moments later, wrapped in a long blue quilted robe, she looked unruffled
and serene. She sat on the couch with him and wrapped an arm around him.
Maurice didn't feel at all embarrassed to rest his head on her shoulder. At
least he didn't whimper or sob like a toddler.
"I'm sorry,
Maurice. It was all I could manage." She patted his head.
"You gave me my
body back?" He sniffled and tried to smile. "Well, at least I'm not
stuck looking like a joke, but how am I going to manage the next twenty-three
months without any magic at all?"
"Oh, you
misunderstand." She nudged him to sit up, then took hold of his hands.
"I tried to persuade Asmondius that you deserved to be yourself for at
least one day, because you had made so much progress. From midnight until
midnight at Christmas Eve, spring and fall equinox, and summer solstice, you
will go among Humans as a man, but with no magic. I'm sorry." She blinked,
and Maurice was disturbed to realize she fought tears.
She was sorry? For
him?
"Hey, no,
actually this is great. I can run around town, see things, talk to all the
people you've had in the shop. It'll be fun." He stood up and posed in his
footed pajamas with pink puppy dogs on them. "But Angie-baby, I gotta get
me some decent clothes."
"You know where
the clothes room is." Her usual humor returned to her eyes. "Get
yourself dressed while I whip up a big breakfast for us. You have a lot to do
today."
"Great." He
rubbed his hands together, pretending anticipation. "What's on the
list?"
"Anything you feel like doing." She graced him with a serene smile, just a touch of smirk, and glided out, heading back upstairs.
Maurice found jeans and a bulky black sweater, and boots in just his size. They weren't the GQ quality of clothes he was used to, but he didn't care. To walk from one room to another, up the stairs to Angela's quarters, and use normal-size dishes thrilled him.
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