Adam loved magic, all magic, not just card tricks. He was geeky like that. Which was okay. I was a dorktacular kid too, otherwise I'd never have agreed to be his stage partner. (I vetoed the outfit.
) We'd perform super cheesy magic you can find anywhere: rabbits from hats, magic rings, sawing me in half.
Except, Adam really wanted his own levitation and vanishing act.
He didn't want the same trick everyone else had, and so he devised his own using a sheet, balloons, and a couple well placed mirrors. It worked. (Kinda.
) The balloon levitated sheet looked lumpy, and the vanishing portion always made obvious popping noises. Still, Adam was certain he could perfect it.
But most of the time we'd just hang out, talk. Our favourite spot being the roof of his house. In the late afternoon, when it wouldn't be too hot, we'd sneak up together.
Which infuriated his safety conscious mom. Although I think his dad tacitly approved. (A glimmer of manliness from his son.)
There was this game we played, looking out at the other houses. We'd imagine the mundane lives of fantastic people. In that apartment, a serial killer is filing taxes.
There, the former head of the Russian mafia is watching cartoons. The world's only real superhero lives there, who's currently folding socks.
Eventually, the sun would set too early, forcing us to climb down.
And then one day, I heard a zipper sound, rubber shoe skidding across shingle. A single instant, a single image: the flash of an outstretched arm as Adam pirouetted over the edge.
And then he was gone. Blink and I'd have missed it.