Death to Childhood Magic

I crushed a fairy in my barehands, the insides oozing like bug guts between my fingers. The moth dust from it's wings stung my eyes. It's body glowed for awhile after it's death, a light green slowly fading as time progressed, I wiped my hands with a paper towel and then washed them under warm water. Death to childhood magic I said as I looked into the mirror. My hair was beginning to gray, my eyes looked tired, my face weathering in the storm of age. This is no fantastical world I said, my mirror self nodded, no, no, magic in these lands. Mortgages, taxes, diseases, addictions, pain, there is no bibbidy bobbity bullshit that will fix that I thought as I walked out of the bathroom and down the hall. The room was lightly furnished, the furniture buried under clutter, bills, junk mail, pennysavers. Empty bottles strewn across the ground, landmines in my way to the recliner. My overhead light flickered daring me to change it. going home