@@

The musical ringing of his cell phone (Pachelbel's Canon in D, his favorite) interrupted his thoughts. He pulled the phone out of his pocket and checked the caller ID, the phone still jingling through Pachelbel. The number on the screen was not one he recognized. He shrugged, pressed the talk button and placed the phone against his ear.

"Hello?" he said.

"Hey there, babe. How's the day treatin' ya?" the voice on the other side of the phone was that of his dream, the voice of the goddess/witch. Melvin's heart caught in his throat, and for a moment, time seemed to freeze. Was this real? Or was he still in bed, still dreaming all of it? The yellow brightness of the day seemed suddenly surreal, filtering through his eyes in slow motion.

"It's real, Mel. Believe it, buddy boy. You don't really think you've dreamt every mundane detail of your incredibly boring morning at work, do ya?"

"How'd you get this number?" Melvin asked, peering around him as if he half thought the witch would be somewhere close by, stalking him.

"Duh! I'm a witch, remember? You can't have forgotten all about me already. Not after our little potion par-tay last night. You seemed to enjoy yourself. I mean, REALLY enjoyed yourself."

"What do you want?" Melvin said, eyes still darting around him. He noticed that Courtney was making her way back to his table, a tray carrying his chef salad and a glass of water balanced on her left hand. His heart began to drum against his sternum.

"Just wanted to make sure you're working your magic. Gettin' your groove on. I wouldn't want to squander my love juice on someone who's too afraid to use it. She's a lefty, by the way. Your waitress, I mean. Ever get a reach around from a lefty?"@@