Jayden woke up the next morning to the distinct scent of cinnamon waffles and what could only be described as moonlight. His eyes cracked open, vision blurred by sleep and confusion, and for one long, disoriented moment, he thought he'd dreamed it all.
Then he turned over and saw Vera levitating horizontally six inches above his floor, humming as she flipped waffles mid-air with an invisible spatula.
"Morning, Devoted One," she said, without turning around.
Jayden groaned. "We need to talk about boundaries."
"Oh, absolutely. After breakfast." The waffles dropped neatly onto a plate that glowed faintly as it landed on his desk. "Eat. Nourish thy mortal body."
Jayden sat up, rubbed his eyes, and stared at the floating cutlery.
"No."
"Yes," Vera countered, grinning. "I didn't scour the memory-archives of ten thousand bakers just for you to skip breakfast."
He picked up a fork hesitantly. "What's in this?"
"Wheat. Cinnamon. The tears of a weeping nebula—kidding. Mostly."
Jayden hesitated.
"Kidding for real. Just cinnamon. And a tiny pinch of stellar sugar. It enhances serotonin."
He took a cautious bite—and immediately regretted every frozen Eggo he'd ever eaten. "Okay. This is… disgustingly good."
Vera beamed. "I accept your awe."
She sat cross-legged mid-air, slowly spinning like a lazy fan blade. Her glowing hair was tied back today, or rather, arranged into a cosmic braid that shimmered whenever the light hit it. Jayden tried not to look directly at it too long—it made him feel like he was about to see the heat death of the universe and his high school GPA at the same time.
"So," she said, mouth full of waffle, "what's the plan today?"
Jayden sipped his coffee slowly. "The plan is normalcy. I have laundry to do, errands to run, and a minor existential crisis to suppress."
"That sounds thrilling."
"You're not invited."
"Too late. I've already emotionally committed."
Jayden set his cup down and gave her the look. "You can't come to the laundromat with me."
Vera raised an eyebrow. "Why not?"
"Because… you glow. You hover. You warp space-time around my socks."
She shrugged. "I can not glow. Watch."
She flicked her wrist. The glittering aura around her dimmed to something that almost looked human. Her robes shimmered and twisted into a hoodie and leggings combo—cosmic cotton, apparently. Even her eyes toned down from celestial moon-pools to something resembling warm hazel.
Jayden blinked. "Whoa."
Vera smirked. "I know."
"Still not normal."
"Neither are you, Jay-Jay."
"Stop calling me that."
She zipped up her hoodie with finality. "Lead the way, mortal."
---
The laundromat two blocks from Jayden's apartment was quiet, save for the rhythmic rumble of washers and the hiss of an ancient vending machine. Jayden dumped his clothes into an open machine and set it spinning, praying that Vera wouldn't do anything that would get them banned.
So far, she was behaving. She sat beside him in the cramped waiting area, eyes wide with curiosity, watching a sock spiral behind glass like it held the secrets of life.
"It's so… mundane," she whispered. "So honest. A cleansing ritual. Very symbolic."
"It's detergent."
She sniffed the air. "Scented detergent."
Jayden leaned back, eyes closed. "You're exhausting."
"Admit it—you missed me while I was browsing the corner store."
"You were gone for two minutes."
"And in that time, I learned about bubble gum, cheap sunglasses, and something called 'nacho cheese-flavored pickle sticks.' This world is a treasure trove of terrible ideas."
Jayden laughed before he could stop himself. "Welcome to Earth."
Vera smiled. "It's grown on me. Like a fungus. A charming, emotionally needy fungus."
They sat in silence for a moment, the buzz of dryers and quiet jazz music filling the space. It was weirdly… peaceful.
"So," Vera said eventually, "you haven't wished yet."
Jayden opened one eye. "What?"
"Your blessing. You haven't asked for it. You do realize you're legally entitled to one miracle?"
He frowned. "Somehow, it feels… wrong. To just ask for something."
"Because you're humble?" she asked, teasing.
"Because I don't trust it," he said honestly.
That made her pause.
"I mean," he continued, "nothing comes for free. Right? What's the catch? Do I owe you my soul? Join a pantheon? Sacrifice three goats under a blood moon?"
She tilted her head. "Wow. So specific."
Jayden shrugged. "You don't just get magic without a price. That's every story ever."
Vera watched him for a moment, expression softer than usual. "Jayden… I'm not here to trick you. I'm here because I was forgotten. Buried. And then—one day—you offered something. Small. Silly, even. But you meant it. You remembered me. That means something. That means everything."
Jayden looked away, uncomfortable with the sincerity. "I still don't know what I'd wish for."
"Then let me help you figure it out."
"How?"
"Let's try things. Live a little. Be ridiculous. Be you." She nudged his shoulder. "When you're ready, the wish will come to you."
Jayden gave a reluctant smile. "You're weird."
"I'm a moon goddess. That's the brand."
The washer beeped, snapping the moment like a twig.
Jayden stood. "C'mon. Let's fold destiny's underpants."
---
They walked back through the city with a laundry bag between them and mild arguments about the superiority of chocolate versus peanut butter echoing down the street. People passed them without a second glance. To everyone else, Vera was just a pretty girl in a hoodie laughing too loud.
To Jayden, she was a small supernova crammed into a mortal shape, reshaping his life one sarcastic quip at a time.
Back in his apartment, he dumped the clothes onto the couch. Vera immediately began folding in complicated, perfectly symmetrical origami shapes.
Jayden sighed. "T-shirts aren't supposed to resemble swans."
Vera grinned. "Everything deserves a little grandeur."
He watched her for a moment, arms crossed. "You really don't have anywhere else to be?"
Her expression softened. "Nowhere that matters."
There was a quiet moment between them. Not awkward. Just… still.
Jayden sat down beside her, grabbing a towel. "So. Say I did make a wish."
"I'm listening."
"What if it wasn't for power, or wealth, or fame?"
"Those are overrated anyway."
"What if I just wanted…" He hesitated. "To not feel invisible anymore?"
Vera stopped folding.
He continued. "I'm not sad or anything. Just… average. Background noise. I don't stand out. Don't shine. Half the time I feel like I'm just waiting for something meaningful to start."
She looked at him then. Really looked.
"You do shine," she said quietly. "You just don't see it yet. But I do."
Jayden blinked.
She reached out, poking his forehead. "And if you wished for meaning—I'd give you a sky full of it. You just say the word."
He swallowed. "Not yet. But thanks."
Vera smiled, eyes moonlit again. "I'm not going anywhere, Jay-Jay."
"Still not calling me that."
---