(Palm Sunday: IV/IV) The Siggort in Exile

And into Max’s life he slips, as if he were never gone.

“I thought I’d made you up,” Max says.

Sid looks a little wounded.

“I’m a siggort,” he says.

“I know,” Max says.

“Siggorts aren’t imaginary,” Sid says.

“Oh.”

And there the history ends.

Jane ponders.

“Today,” Jane says, “We learned some important things about siggorts!”

“Like?”

“Well,” Jane says, “people and siggorts can legitimately disagree on whether they’re imaginary. And also, they have feathers!”

“That’s true,” Martin says.

Jane beams.

She plays with her fingers for a moment.

“Sid and Max should just get over it already,” she says.

“Bed!” Martin shouts.

And Jane giggles and runs off to bed.

It is 1979 and Max is the luckiest kid alive.

He doesn’t have to carry his homeroom teacher back to his teacher’s house alone. He doesn’t have to go to the place without recourse.

Instead, Max has a magical friend named Sid.

Max straightens up.

He looks off at the darkening sky.

“I missed you,” he says.

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