Glaring at her brother across the school office’s waiting area, Cara considered potential epithets, curses, and slurs. She settled for an accusatory, “I should be in dance class.”

Logan shrugged, “The universe has a way of putting us where we’re supposed to be.”

Leaning forward with hands outstretched, she replied through clenched teeth, “You’re six. What six year old says crap like that? You say those…those…”

“I prefer the term witticisms.”

“You freaking call them witticisms! Why are you so weird?”

She didn’t expect an answer, especially when he went into one of his usual series of facial contortions. It looked a lot like a conversation, only he never said anything.

Quite out of character, Logan came out of his internal dialog to offer in all seriousness, “You might as well know, sis. I’m possessed.”

“What?” Cara sneered, “Like, with a demon? Or the devil?”

“No,” came the matter of fact reply, “just Merle.”

“The country singer?”

“Nope, vaudeville magician. Never did get very famous.”