Black Magick

It was a little past three in the morning; Max was wide awake. He lay in bed with Mags snuggled against him and stared through the french doors at the silhouetted cityscape, his mind throwing images like a turning slot wheel machine. Max eased out of bed, pulled on his jeans, and quietly stepped outside into the morning air. 

He stood on the balcony overlooking the city below, absently surveying the landscape like a deposed king. The images continued to dance in his mind, and he couldn't make any sense of them. There was no discernible pattern.

"Are you okay?"

"No," he honestly answered. He turned to face Mags, who was leaning up against the door. "I really could use a coffee though."

Mags flowed over and embraced him. She gave him a kiss and then said, "Sounds like a plan to me."