Lies are seemingly harmless little things uttered by people every day without real thought, Ann realises as she eavesdrops on other customers while waiting for her sister, Charlotte, at a cafe. Gently, with all the layers still beautifully intact, she pours the sugar onto the foam of her Cafe Latte and continues to wonder.

In a world of fantasy with wizards, elves and dragons, words seem to hold so much more power. If pronounced properly or with the right phonetic combinations, a person has the power to create something breathtaking, mend and even heal. OR use it to inflict pain.

Maybe that is why I’ve always thought words have lost their power. Just as the world has lost so many ancient traditions, cultures and languages. No longer do people fear the use of simple phonetic sounds, because it doesn’t come with a price anymore.

Ann glances at their deceased mother’s music box, carefully placed next to her on the table. She’d found the old music box tucked away with all their mom’s things when she finally helped her father move to a retreat. Longingly she traces the decorative carvings on it with her finger stopping at a crack that had been mended many years ago.

Suddenly, the sugar sinks through the foam, causing an explosion between milk and coffee and a memory trickles into her mind, like a vision in a pensieve.

In it, Ann sees her sister and herself playing on a carpet. The room is warmly lit by the afternoon sun, accompanied by a sense of safety. Without warning, a single scream shatters their sanctuary. Their mother enters the room. Angry and crying, cradling a family heirloom. Broken.

Fear grips Ann’s heart. Somehow, she’d hoped their mother wouldn’t find out what she’d done. Her heart fights violently to escape. It was an accident, but would she still forgive her?

Ann glimpses at their mother, but guilt forms an alliance with fear when she sees the pain engraved on her mom’s face and her loss wallowing in her eyes. Was I strong enough to bear the responsibility? Ann wondered, terrified.

“It was,” her voice cracked. She tried again, swallowing non-existing spit.

“It was,” Ann’s eyes drifted towards Charlotte, staring at her, wide eyed. Would she be strong enough?

Ann sees how Charlotte’s neck swings around, begging their mother in disbelief. She’d broken mom’s teapot just the previous week, so it was easy for our mother to believe me. Ann looked up from her painful memory and was relieved to see Charlotte walking into the cafe, smiling.

Perhaps words no longer possess the type of magic to inflate your despicable aunt, but maybe it still holds some magic, after all.

She stands up to embrace Charlotte. Because the lie I told placed a spell on my sister, causing a divide. Laughter fills the cafe as Charlotte frantically explains why she was late.

For many years, I didn’t know the magic words that would break it and heal our relationship. The room lights up by the afternoon sun and Ann’s heart swells as Charlotte receives their mother’s music box lovingly.

Luckily, my apology held far more power than my lie.