F3 Nimble Fingers

     "So, you want into the racket, eh. Live life out here on the streets, huh?" I put a fresh toothpick between my teeth.
     The kid in front of me nodded vigorously. "Yeah. I'm tough. I can do this. I get right in people's faces. I got no problem staring a guy down with a gun or a knife."

F3 Part of The Plan

     Dying was always part of the plan. Not the smartest part, mind, but necessary. It was one of those things that I would leave out of the plan if I could. Unfortunately I just couldn't make the math work out without dying. I didn't get to go out easy, either. No clever drugs to simulate death. No magic spells that eased my passage. No gently falling asleep and then waking up in the everafter. No, this was going to hurt.

F3 Touch of Magic

     Card tricks. Illusions. Sleight of hand. Daring escapes. Misdirection. Trapdoors. Custom-engineered rigs. All tools of the trade for a magician. So as I made the ball disappear up a sleeve, coins appear out of ears, swap places with an assistant through a door, and even more elaborate, spectacular tricks, I did nothing that a well-practiced magician on Vegas couldn't do. This was not real magic, though many claimed to have that ability.
     Magic was real, though. I never used much, and almost always on a trick most thought they could explain, or at least one that was so ordinary as to not be worth real magic. But the most ordinary circumstances required real magic.