This wasn’t where he wanted to be. In the grand scheme of things, he didn’t want to be anywhere. Not really. It was too messy, too draining, being corporeal and linear. He wanted to float in the vastness of time and drift through meaningless space. Instead, he was here. In the second row of Mrs. Hempstead’s third-grade class. It was a rough come down for a formative power of the universe. But that was what you got when your creator being declared you were grounded: one standard mortal life, no powers, no frills, but the knowledge of who you truly were lingering in the back of your mind for the duration of that rough century. With a sigh, he looked back at his spelling test and tried to remember how to spell Wednesday.


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