6 AM
I’m kidding. I’m not even up yet.

7:39 AM
Eleven minutes till the next bus. You again. Do you never shave? I’ll admit, the wannabe wizard guise almost works. But maybe that’s because you are a real wizard.

7:40 AM
Shouldn’t you be wearing a cape? Oh, I see. You’re trying to blend in with the rest of us.

7:41 AM
Ten minutes to go. Let me play clairvoyant. You’re taking the bus to the lake. You’re going to feed the fish, not catch them. Your father owns a boat. You own a makeshift raft that only has room for your butt.

7:42 AM
You don’t believe in birthright. You fend for yourself. But it’s easy, because you’re a wizard. Swish and flick.

7:43 AM
Do you believe in magic?

7:44 AM
The lines on your right palm crave a rubber ball. Another palm. You miss him.

7:45 AM
You stopped playing magic tricks at eight years old. No other eight-year-old flew away with the yellow balloon like you did.

7:46 AM
You work a nine-to-five job. You’re happy. You wish they’d let you type away till 7 PM—8 PM, even. Not 9 PM. You love your job but you want to get into the bath at 9:10 PM with that book you’ve been reading (pretending to?) for the past four years.

7:47 AM
Your mother grew up in the sands of Rajasthan. Your father is from Pluto. Pluto is not a planet.

What are you?

7:48 AM
Breakfast is your favorite meal of the day. You don’t read newspapers. You buy them for the Sudoku puzzles. You time yourself. You look especially smug today. Two minutes 36 seconds?

7:49 AM
You stopped practicing magic at 12 years old.

7:50 AM
Maybe tomorrow you’ll put on your pointy hat. The beard suits you.

—By Aditi S., 18, India