A Magician's Tale

As she read the last few lines of the letter there was two things she noticed about it. First, ink had blotted on parts of the paper. Second, it smelled of tears. Real tears.
She put her head down on the table. A muted shriek tore out through her eyes and crumbled into an affectionate pillow, dampening it.

First time she had seen him cry was the first time she had seen him ever.
She was seated in the first row when the curtains unrolled and the magician appeared from behind a cloud of smoke. She noticed his eyes. Unfathomable, yet captivating, as he peeped into her's in a gaze that lasted for more than a second. He then asked the audience to keep their palm held open in front of them. The show began. A few drops of tears, like cannonballs, shot out of his eyes, took two rounds of the auditorium to the sheer amazement of the stunned crowd, came back and circled over his head creating an incandescent halo of mist, and completed its trajectory dropping right into her open palm. The stupefied crowd was dumbfounded as he spoke:
'Smell it'
'Rose', she said.
The crowd went hysterical.
Later, when she had met him at the gate and asked him if the tears were real he had simply said
"Magicians don't cry. At least not in reality."

That was the first time. They met several times later and each time he left her entranced with his tricks. On one occasion he created a rainbow across their foreheads and she had to cut the illusion with scissors lest they'd remain forever attached through their foreheads by the colourful arc. On another occasion he had made the gravity so low that when the rains fell, its descent was so slow in that moonlit night that she was convinced that she was Eve and he his Adam in an enchanted paradise.

Once, when she couldn't hold it anymore, she confessed what had remained concealed within her, and waited for his reply.
"Magicians are not capable of love". He smiled, indifferently.
He drew out a hand from the pocket and made a heart that hung in mid air. From where she stood, she saw a perect heart - red, and beating. But when she tried to see from where he stood, she saw nothing. Vacuum. Absolute emptiness. And when she tried to touch it, an unbearable pang clenched her own heart. She knew it. She was hopelessly in love.
"Then make me a magician too" she pleaded.
He walked away across the hanging heart, almost killing her in the process, as he replied:
"Magicians, like energy, cannot be created or destroyed."

That was the last time they had met. He left the town soon after, and nothing was heard of his whereabouts until his letter arrived. While she still lay dug in his memories a strange aura of calmness enveloped her. And she realized this was not a time to weep but to rejoice. For the magician had finally fallen in love. But she knew she was mistaken. The epiphany finally struck her. She smelled the pillow.
"Rose".
She smiled.