Machimagic
Stilvi kicked the damn thing. “Why won’t you work?” she cried out, both from frustration and from pain.
The broom stared back in silence, mocking her with its immobility and its refusal to start. It was last-year’s model, of course, Stilvi couldn’t afford the newer ones. She liked it a lot, having stared at it every day as she passed the shop on her way home. The broom had a nice copper exhaust that shone nicely, a retro-style grip for the gear-shift and a big honking aluminium cooler at the back. It was a machimagick obviously made with love, just like she herself was.
She sat down on the bench across the store she’d just bought it from and sighed, her hat thankfully covering up her crying face. It was dark and the street light shone over her, making her face even more obscu
