The Gravity Charm

I decide, right then, that I will not steal from Pete again on an empty stomach. It is a small rule, born of a specific hunger that has nothing to do with food, but it feels like the first solid thing I have held all night.

I am crouched on a narrow ledge of the third spire, my knee pressed into cold stone, waiting for the shift in the air pressure. Pete is inside. I can feel the hum of his spell-work vibrating through the masonry, a low, steady thrum that matches the heartbeat I’ve been tracking for three months. He is a wizard who keeps his magic organized in color-coded jars and his personality in a velvet coat that probably costs more than my entire apartment.

I drop.