The rest of the day flew by in a blur, Hannah's thoughts on Andrew McGuire.  Her fingers still tingled from their handshake.  Unlike most customers, he was very engaging but she wondered why he wanted to speak with her, especially when she suggested he seek assistance from other salesclerks.  That evening, long after playing with Oscar and having a small dinner, she stood in front of the kitchen sink, drying dishes.  Setting the dishrag aside, Hannah closed her eyes and reached deep within to see if she could still feel the magic behind the imaginary door she'd perfected in making, a mental barrier to keep its presence hidden from her parents and the world.  It was warm and humming, filling her with inexplicable joy.  Oscar calmly watched his human, the air around her turning a golden hue, only visible to sentient beings, more sensitive than Homo sapiens to the world around them.  He watched as she levitated off the ground a few millimeters, staying aloft for couple of breaths, before her feet gently touched back down on to the nubby kitchen rug.  Opening her eyes, Hannah was torn between happiness and a sense of profound loneliness.  Her parents, now dead, always told her the gift was evil, even putting her in an sanitorium for a brief period of time, hoping the 'experts' would cure their daughter from the freak talent that emerged soon after puberty.  She'd learned from that experience to never let anyone know what she was thinking.  Sometimes the feeling of isolation was unbearable.