But it’s just a silly plot device from a fairy tale, Lucinda protested, stomping her foot for emphasis. How can a hot-air balloon be a portal to someplace that doesn’t exist?
Margaret slid the newspaper across the kitchen table, folded like a child’s lopsided Christmas wrapping, so the front page story was the only thing visible. Her sister was a devout agnostic when it came to all things marvelous and magical so she would have to read it for herself.
I don’t believe it, Lucinda muttered, but her eyes told a different story. She scanned the page several times, rereading the scientific report, before returning the crumpled pile of paper to the chipped linoleum.
She looked at Margaret. Margaret held her breath.
Well, what are we doing still sitting here? Lucinda beamed, grabbing her sister’s hand and pulling her toward the door.
We’d better hurry if we want to catch a Munchkin!