Tick Tock Tick Tock

Peter Pan. 500 words, 2 minute read. With Claude Sonnet.

The last rays of Florida sunset painted the sky in impossible shades of pink and gold, their reflection dancing across the pontoon's metal deck. Sarah's fingers flew across her phone screen, muscle memory from a thousand social media posts, but her eyes kept drifting to the boy floating cross-legged above the bow.

Peter tilted his head, watching her with that peculiar mix of ancient wisdom and perpetual youth in his eyes. "Seriously? You're posting *another* story?" His bare feet touched down on the deck as he padded closer. "Your followers can't see what's really magical about this moment."

Sarah's thumb hesitated over the 'share' button. "My followers are my friends," she muttered, but even she heard the uncertainty in her voice. "And Mom would freak if I just disappeared. She barely got over Dad leaving—"

"But that's exactly why you should come with me!" Peter spun in the air, sending ripples of energy across the warm evening breeze. "In Neverland, you don't have to worry about grown-up stuff like that. No more checking your phone every five minutes to see if he's finally messaged you back."

Sarah's cheeks burned. She hadn't realized Peter had noticed that particular habit. "It's not that simple—" She stretched her arm out over the water, trying to capture both the sunset and Peter's aerial acrobatics in one shot. The phone slipped, a silver flash against the darkening sky.

A massive shape erupted from below, scales gleaming like wet copper in the fading light. The snap of alligator jaws was followed by a gulp that seemed to echo across the water.

"I guess that's one way to disconnect," Peter quipped, but his eyes were soft with something that might have been understanding.

Sarah stared at her empty hands, her heart pounding. That phone had been her lifeline, her window to a world that made sense. Without it, she felt strangely hollow. And yet...

---

One month later, Sarah wandered along Lake Eola's shore, absently checking her replacement phone's notifications. The Florida afternoon pressed against her skin like a warm, damp blanket. A group of tourists scattered bread for the swans, their excited chatter carrying across the water.

She thought about the strange boy, the offer she had turned down, what might have been. Maybe in another life.

Then she heard it – the familiar marimba ringtone she'd used since seventh grade.

But her new phone was set to vibrate.

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