She came home from the marketplace grinning and showing off her new find, a pen with a glowing blue tip.  As she demonstrated it on her sketchbook, it left glowing trails behind, and the tree she was drawing grew into the air, solid and real with paper for bark.

I stared in wonder, grinning as she turned toward me, brandishing the glowing device.  A glowing blade from the back of the pen flicked through my shoulder, and my arm flickered into blueness then vanished.  “Am I dependent on your artistic skills to return to normal?”

As she drew arcing lines away from my empty shoulder she grinned mischievously.  “Who said anything about normal?”