Angela put her dead phone back into her jeans pocket. She held the rainbow bottle up before her eyes. In the ghost-green light of the arcade, it shimmered with rose and violet and blue. She tried to smile at Mr. Zimmerman.
“It’s really pretty. Thank you," she said.
Adam Zimmerman’s old-young-old face smiled down at Angela. “Just open it up and ask it — politely, mind you — to fix what’s wrong. Since your problem is of a timely nature, I’m sure it’ll know what to do. Goodnight, young lady! See you again, I’m sure.”
Angela watched Mr. Zimmerman disappear back into his Rewind Shop.
Part of her wanted to explore all the rest of this nighttime arcade. It seemed to have as many corners and secrets and marvels as the daytime Lower Arcade of Pike Place Market. Maybe even more.
But Adam Zimmerman was right. It was time to go home.
If only I can! Angela thought.