Ali stood beside the counter, her athletic frame clad in a tank top, shorts, and sneakers. Her knife tapping lightly as she chopped a cucumber. The kitchen was tidy and vibrant, filled with the scent of fresh produce and the quiet comfort of a shared home.

Brendan paused, raised his phone, and squinted at the screen, confusion flickering across his face. He was fifteen, athletic, and had curly brown hair.

Ali rested her palms on the cool counter, her gaze drifting toward Brendan with a mix of hesitation and resolve. "There's something ... about me ... you must know," she said quietly, her words almost swallowed by the stillness. "What is it?" Brendan asked, setting his phone down and leaning closer, curiosity deepening in his eyes.

Ali closed her eyes, summoning courage. She swallowed, searching for the right words. "I ... am ... a genie," she finally said, the confession lingering in the air like perfume. "A genie?" Brendan echoed, disbelief and wonder mixing in his voice.

"You mean like Robin Williams?" Brendan asked, half-joking, half-serious. "Somewhat," Ali replied, a small smile on her lips. She picked up the phone and slipped her arm around Brendan's shoulders. "Let me see your phone," she said, guiding him into a double selfie. The screen flickered to life, but only Brendan appeared, his face puzzled and amazed.

"I'm not seeing you," Brendan murmured, awe coloring his words. "Genies cannot be photographed," Ali replied, her secret now shared, the magic of the ordinary world forever altered.