Free When Libby Met the Fairies and her Whole Life Went Fae by Kirsten Mortensen

asleep on the rug, groaned heavily.
    “I’ve seen something very peculiar. A couple of times. In the field, behind my house.”
    He nodded.
    “A person. Sort of. Not a human.” She watched his expression. It was kind of hard to tell, the light was so dim. But he didn’t seem put off, as far as she could tell. “He was—about this tall.” She held her hand a couple of feet above the floor. “And he spoke to me.”
    He nodded again.
    “So here’s my question,” she said. “Have you—have you seen it?”
    “No.”
    She slumped back onto the couch. “I’m not crazy.”
    “I didn’t say you were.”
    “Any sane person would say so.”
    “What did he say? The . . .”
    “Little man. That’s what he looked like. A little man. Not a dwarf—proportioned just like a normally developed . . . ” She took another sip of wine. “Maybe I shouldn’t be telling you this.”
    “Kind of late for that.”
    “Yeah.”
    They sat for a minute. And she thought he would just let it drop now. If she let it drop, he’d let it drop.
    But she went on anyway.
    “I don’t really remember the first time very well.” She shifted her position and set her wine glass down on the table at the end of the couch. “Except that he seemed . . . sort of offended that I . . . well, it freaked me out, to see him. So I didn’t exactly clap him on the back and invite him in for a beer.”
    “Can’t say as I blame you. And the second time?”
    “That one . . . that one I remember. Real well. It was the day of the ice storm. Dean, he told me to move my car.”
    A log popped in the woodstove and in the sudden flare of light she saw his brow knit. “Oh, really.”
    “Yeah. Tuesday evening. About 6:30.”
    The flare died down and it was again too dark to see his eyes.
    “I’m telling the truth,” she said. “It’s . . . I’m not happy about this. It’s actually freaking me out a bit.”
    He nodded. “Yeah. I could see . . . how it might upset someone.”
    She set her wine glass down on the end table near the couch. She wasn’t sure, now, if it had been a good idea to . . . she didn’t know this guy. What if he—
    “You won’t tell anyone, right?”
    “No.”
    Tears began to well in her eyes. She supposed it was the wine. But it wasn’t just the wine. She’d been holding them back. She’d been holding them back since she’d shone the flashlight beam on her car and realized that freaky little creature that was apparently haunting her property was somehow able to predict the future. “You’re sure you haven’t seen it?” she whispered.
    “You’re upset.”
    “I’m sorry. But you know, it’s scaring the shit out of me.”
    “Hang on.” He came back a moment later with a box of tissues. He sat on the couch next to Libby and she pulled a tissue from the box and wiped her eyes. “Well. Let’s take a look at this head on, okay?”
    “Okay.” She wiped her eyes again.
    “First off. Why does it scare you? Has he threatened you?”
    “No.”
    “Okay. Did he have horns?”
    “Horns?”
    “You know, devil horns.” He put the tissue box on his lap and made horns on his head with his index fingers. “Like this.” He wiggled them.
    “That’s not funny.”
    “You’re smiling.”
    “To be polite.”
    “Well, did he? Have horns?”
    “No.”
    Suddenly he reached out and touched the back of her head, stroking her hair. “Libby, I‘d like to kiss you now.”
    She should have said no. But she didn’t. So he kissed her. And she let him. And then a second time, with his tongue.
    She broke away and stood up.
    “I . . . can’t.” She felt giddy from standing up so fast. “I’m got a—I’m in a Pau—I’m in a committed relationship.”
    He looked away. “I’m sorry.”
    “No, it’s a good relationship.”
    He laughed. Forced it a bit, maybe. “I’m sure.” He got up. “Here. You can have your seat back.”
    She realized she was rubbing the space over her breastbone and stopped herself. “It’s