Mary sat wearily on the ground bathing herself in the afternoon sunlight. It was a necessary kind of sitting, for her legs had simply gone out from under her, so heavy was the burden of having no one to talk to and no one to play with for such a long time. Everything had begun to feel flat of late, and the nature of the day itself did nothing to suggest otherwise. It was a strange, abandoning kind of day, when the world felt Fae and fruitless and forlorn.
It was with a kind of curiosity, then, that Mary had an abruptly pleasant thought: the sun felt nice on her skin. Without knowing why she did it, Mary raised her palm to the light as if she could catch it. As she did so, suddenly her hand was filled with a glowing ball. An instant later droves of fairies appeared out of nowhere, darting at her in every direction until they hovered in midair before her like a host of tiny angels. 'Hello,' she said, for it was the first thing that came to her mind as her eyes lit with the sight of such enchantment. But the fairies did not speak. Instead they tinkled like bells. Mary heard them with ears utterly delighted at the sound.
So engrossed with the fairies was Mary that she did not notice that the light in her hand had begun to wane. It only lasted a single second more, and then the light went out. Another second, and the fairies were gone as quickly as they had come.
It was all the day held, but it was enough, this one treasured moment of wonder, on which to live a lifetime.