A Prestidigitation of Falling Leaves

“He’s making a coin disappear,” Maria said, her voice filled with an awe Noah hadn't possessed since he was six. “How is he doing that?”

“It’s called sleight of hand, May,” Noah said, not looking up from his phone. “His right hand is faster than your eye. It’s not magic.”

“It is too magic,” she insisted, tugging on his sleeve. “Watch!”

With a theatrical sigh, Noah pocketed his phone and granted the performance his full, critical attention. The magician—Elias, according to the hand-lettered sign on his open instrument case—was charming, he’d give him that. He had a mop of unruly auburn hair that caught the afternoon light and a smile that seemed to reach every person in the small crowd. He was currently making a fifty-pence piece dance across his knuckles before vanishing it into thin air. A few tourists gasped. Maria clapped her hands. Noah remained unimpressed.

He knew how the trick was done. He’d watched enough videos online to understand the mechanics of a French drop and a false transfer. But watching it on a screen and seeing it performed live, with such fluid, effortless grace, were two different things. Elias’s hands were mesmerizing. Long-fingered and nimble, they moved with a confident economy that was almost hypnotic. Despite himself, Noah found he couldn't look away.

“Alright, alright,” Elias said, his voice carrying easily over the park’s low murmur. “For my next trick, I need a brave volunteer. Someone with a sharp eye and a belief in the impossible.” His gaze swept the crowd and, with the unerring instinct of all performers, landed on the most enthusiastic face. “How about you, with the bright red coat?”

Maria gasped and pointed at herself. Elias grinned and beckoned her forward. She looked back at Noah, her eyes wide with a plea for permission. He gave a reluctant nod. “Go on, then. Don’t give him your wallet.”

Maria practically skipped into the small performance space. Elias crouched down to her level. “What’s your name, brave volunteer?”

“Maria,” she breathed.

“A lovely name for a lovely assistant,” he said, his smile softening. “Now, Maria, I have here three small cups and one small red ball. The game is simple. You watch the ball, you tell me where it goes. Think you can do that?”

She nodded vigorously. What followed was a masterclass in misdirection. Elias moved the cups with a theatrical flourish, his hands a blur, all while keeping up a steady stream of patter directed at Maria, asking her about her day, her favourite animal, making her laugh. Noah watched, fascinated not by the trick, but by the interaction. Elias had a way of making the person he was talking to feel like the only one in the world.

Of course, when Maria pointed to the cup she thought held the ball, it was empty. So was the second. Elias lifted the third, and underneath was not the ball, but a lemon. A whole, actual lemon.

The crowd applauded. Maria’s jaw dropped. Noah, for the first time, felt a genuine flicker of wonder. How had he done that? He hadn’t seen him palm a lemon. The kid was good. Really good.

“Thank you, Maria, you were a brilliant assistant!” Elias said, and from behind her ear, he produced the little red ball, handing it to her as a souvenir. As Maria ran back to Noah, clutching her prizes, Elias’s eyes met his over her head. He gave a small, knowing wink, and Noah felt an unexpected jolt, a warmth spreading through his chest.

After a final card trick that earned him a decent smattering of coins and notes in his case, the small crowd dispersed. Elias began to pack up his props. Noah was about to steer Maria towards the pond when the magician’s voice stopped them.

“She’s a great kid,” he said, walking over. He was taller up close, and his eyes were a startling shade of green.

“She’s alright,” Noah said, adopting his default tone of mild indifference. “For a sister.”

Elias laughed. “Tough crowd.” He looked directly at Noah. “You weren’t impressed, were you? The big brother in the back, arms crossed, trying to figure out all my secrets.”

“I know how you did the coin trick,” Noah stated, feeling defensive.

“Oh yeah?” Elias leaned against the base of the statue, casual and confident. “And the lemon? Figure that one out yet?”

“You had it up your sleeve.”

“My sleeves are rolled up,” Elias pointed out, showing his forearms. “And even if they weren't, a lemon is a bit conspicuous, don't you think?” He had a point. “It’s okay to not know how everything works,” Elias continued, his voice softer. “Sometimes it’s better not to. Leaves a little room for… well, you know.”

“Magic?” Noah said, the word tasting cynical on his tongue.

“Or just not being bored,” Elias countered with a shrug. “I saw your face when Maria was up here. You smiled. Just for a second.”

Noah’s cheeks grew warm. He hadn't realised he’d been so transparent. “Must have been gas,” he mumbled.

Elias just grinned, a slow, brilliant thing that made Noah’s stomach do a complicated flip. “Right. Gas.” He pushed off from the statue. “Well, thanks for lending me your assistant.” He started to walk away, then paused and looked back. “By the way,” he said, holding up his hand. Something glinted between his fingers. It was Noah's silver ring, the one he constantly twisted around his finger.

Noah’s hand flew to his own, which was suddenly, shockingly bare. “How…?”

Elias’s grin widened. “Magic,” he said, then tossed the ring in a glittering arc. Noah snatched it out of the air. When he looked up, Elias was already disappearing into the throng of people on the path, leaving Noah with a racing heart and the distinct feeling that he’d just been expertly played.