The Magic in Everything

“I just don’t get it,” Alice said, staring at the worn leather cover of the book in front of her. Her voice was tinged with frustration, the kind that came when a question seemed just out of reach. “If magic isn’t real, why does it feel like it should be? Why do stories about it make me feel… something?”

Jamie adjusted his glasses and frowned, his expression caught somewhere between curiosity and doubt. “Maybe it’s because we want it to be real,” he said. “People like the idea of magic because it explains things we can’t.”

Max, sitting back with his chair tilted precariously on two legs, smirked. “Or maybe it’s just because people like pretending. Tricks, illusions, make-believe—it’s fun, but it’s not real.”

The three of them were gathered at their usual spot in Miss Sophia’s bookshop, a snug table near the fire. Outside, the evening was settling in.

Alice crossed her arms. As she shook her head. “But it feels real, sometimes. Like, when you see something so beautiful it stops you in your tracks. Or when something happens that feels… too perfect to be just luck. Doesn’t that feel like magic?”

Jamie looked thoughtful but didn’t answer. Max just shrugged.

The door to the shop creaked open, and Miss Sophia appeared, her apron dusted with what might have been flour or glitter—it was hard to tell in the flickering firelight. She carried a tray of steaming hot chocolates, each topped with a generous swirl of cream and a sprinkle of cinnamon.

“Magic, is it?” she said with a knowing smile, setting the tray down on the table. “Now that’s a conversation worth having.”

Alice’s face lit up. “Miss Sophia, do you think magic is real?”

Miss Sophia paused, her wise eyes sparkling as if she held a secret the world had forgotten. She sat down with a mug of her own, cupping it in her hands as if it were a treasure.

“Real?” she repeated softly. “Well, that depends on how you see it. Most people look too quickly to notice, but magic is all around us. You just have to learn how to see it.”

Jamie tilted his head, intrigued despite himself. “How do you see something that isn’t there?”

Miss Sophia’s lips curved into a mysterious smile. “Oh, it’s there, my dear. In the way snowflakes dance in the lamplight. In the way a story feels like it was written just for you. In the moments that take your breath away. And when these things come to you at just the right time… just for you. That’s magic.”

Alice leaned forward, her frustration melting into wonder. “Do you really think so?”

Miss Sophia gave her a little wink and stood, taking her mug with her. “You wait and see,” she said, disappearing into the rows of bookshelves.

The children sat in thoughtful silence, the fire crackling beside them. None of them spoke as they finished their cocoa, but something had shifted—a spark of curiosity, a glimmer of belief.

When they finally stepped outside, it was as if they had entered a different world. Snowflakes drifted gently from the heavens, dusting the cobbled streets in a soft, shimmering white. The old streetlamp outside Miss Sophia’s shop cast a warm golden glow, its halo catching the snow in a mesmerizing dance. Above, the first twinkling stars began to emerge, scattered across a breathtaking canvas of indigo and violet, completing the magical transformation.

“Wow,” Alice whispered, her breath puffing in the cold air. “It’s so… beautiful.”

Jamie nodded, his glasses fogging slightly as he looked up at the sky. “I didn’t even notice before, but… it kind of doesfeel like magic.”

Max, for once, didn’t have a clever remark. He simply stared at the glowing scene around them, his expression softening.

In that moment, they saw it—truly saw it. The magic Miss Sophia had spoken of wasn’t a trick or an illusion. It was in the way the snow seemed to sparkle just for them, in the warmth of their friendship on a cold night, in the quiet wonder of the world transformed.

And as they walked home, the thought stayed with them, a tiny ember of wonder they would carry forever:

The world is full of magic. You just have to look for it.