Anya trailed a finger over the thick glass dome. It gleamed even in the dull, rainy-day light.
Inside the tiny opalescent orb brightened as it did whenever she touched the snow globe – a weird word for it since there was no snow inside, just the orb and hazy purple mountains. She took it to her reading nook by the window.
Papi said it was magic. He said all she had to do was give it a twist when she was scared or sad and it would make everything better.
Anya had tried it when Becky, a dumb fourth grader, had pulled her hair at recess. After school she’d shaken the globe with all her might but nothing had happened. Then Papi had come over and taken her out for ice cream.
Now, Papi wasn’t here to help her feel better. In fact, he was the reason she felt sad. Papi was in heaven. There was no one to hunt for arrowheads with, no one to point out constellations, no one to tell her stories about the old Gods with unpronounceable names.
Anya shook the globe harder than she’d ever shaken it. Papi had lied! There was no magic. Just a stupid world with stupid adults whose own hearts attacked them.
A glow emanated from the globe, soft at first but grew blinding. She squinted until her eyes adjusted. When she opened them, she was sitting in the center of the light. Around her zipped tiny rainbows of colors like fish swimming in water. Across from her, Papi sat smiling.
“Have I ever lied to you, Tatianya?”