Albert's fingers hovered over the keyboard, hesitating. The screen glowed softly in the dim room, reflecting the city lights outside. He was trying to make sense of it all - ten years after magic first showed up, the world still didn't fully understand what had happened.
He began typing, imagining he was explaining to someone in the present, someone who never saw those early days. The words came slowly, like putting together a puzzle no one had all the pieces for.
"Ten years ago," he wrote, "something strange arrived in our world. We called it magic. At first, it was almost invisible - subtle changes that no one could explain. A seed sprouting faster than nature allowed. A wound healing quicker than medicine could. Lights flickering in the night sky without any clear source."
Albert paused, fingers resting on the keys. How to describe the confusion and fear that followed? Governments faltered, laws scrambled to keep up, and everyday people were caught between hope and panic.
"But it wasn't just chaos," he continued, "more like a slow burn. People began to realize this magic wasn't just a miracle or a trick. It was real - an unseen force woven into the fabric of our lives. Some learned to use it, others feared it. And all of us had to start learning what this meant."
He thought about the stories he'd collected: the nurse healing patients by touch, farmers doubling harvests overnight, rumors of strange creatures slipping between shadows. None of it made complete sense yet. The rules were still being written.
Albert leaned back, eyes on the screen. He wasn't telling the full story - no one was. But maybe, by piecing it together, step by step, he could help others see the world as it had changed.
"Magic," he typed, "is not just a power or a trick. It's a new language the world is learning to speak. And ten years in, we're still just learning the alphabet."
He saved the draft. The story was only beginning.