A fantasy short story about a girl who finds her soul in her sock drawer, a waif in her cabin, and love in the homicide squad. This is somewhere in that odd boundaryland between magical realism, urban fantasy, and I don't know I just made it up. People often complain that I don't explain how magic works in my stories; I'll just say that magic doesn't work, magic is.There might be something or other in here for anyone who has ever loved a book inordinately as a kid, or not loved one that all your friends loved, or had a pretty good parent who nevertheless had feet of clay.Or if you think everything north of the Wyoming line should have been turned over to the elves a long time ago.Read the story to meet plain old goddam Amy, and I hope you'll like her as much as I did, when she occurred to me. Originally published in Jim Baen's Universe in 2006; remember, it's Jim Baen's Universe, and the rest of us just live here.
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