The Good Fairies of New York

I walked up the hill, book in hand. I strained to make out the words in the street lights.

There were twenty pages to go.

I couldn't wait five more minutes to get home, so I stopped, on the corner, and finished my book in the light of the supermarket.

Delicious.

I walked home, hoping to spy a drunken fairy under a hedge.

But I didn't.

Doesn't mean I won't keep looking, though.