Upstairs/Downstairs - Blanche
A worker had told her about the djinn in the desert. Not prone to flights of fancy, she ignored him. But as she lay in bed that night, she pictured them. Spirits, not devils, he’d said, not angels. In the morning, her sketchbook page was covered with scribbles, a shadowy figure with the paws of a cat, a snake, an owl with eyes that knew her.
Several years later she finds the page, tucked underneath a stack of Portia’s letters signed in a script that looks like the ocean. No, she thinks, she is not prone to flights of fancy.