The small, independently-owned coffee shop smelled of roasted beans and warm sugar, a comforting scent that did little to calm the nerves of Frankie’s parents. Mr. and Mrs. Williams sat at a small, round table tucked away in the least conspicuous corner, a silent pact made between them to act as a barrier to the outside world. They had insisted on this arrangement—meeting Frankie’s online friend for a brief chat first. It was a test. A necessary, parental test they had devised after years of painful experience.

Mr. Williams adjusted his glasses, his gaze fixed on the entrance, while Mrs. Williams fiddled with the sleeve of her cardigan. “You’re sure this is the right thing to do, dear?” she whispered, her voice laced with a familiar worry.

Mr. Williams took a deep breath. “We have to, honey. It’s the only way to know for sure. Frankie deserves a chance to have a friend, but we can’t risk what happened before. Not again.”

The bell over the door chimed, and a person entered. They had given a general description of themselves, enough for the Williams to recognize them. They looked… normal. Unassuming, even. They had a pleasant, open face and a calm demeanor as they scanned the room. Their eyes fell on the Williams, and a tentative smile appeared.

“Hi, you must be Frankie’s parents,” they said, their voice even and friendly as they approached the table.

Mr. Williams stood, offering a hand. “We are. It’s good to meet you. Please, have a seat.”

After a few minutes of polite small talk—about the weather, the busyness of the shop, and how they knew Frankie online—Mr. Williams cleared his throat, the signal for the pleasantries to end. The easy smile on his face tightened with resolve.

“Look,” he began, his voice dropping to a serious tone. “We appreciate you coming out to meet Frankie. She… she really wanted this. But before she comes in, there’s something we need to tell you. Something that’s very important. It’s why we’ve always been so protective of her, and why we insisted on this first meeting.”

The online friend’s expression shifted, a flicker of curiosity and concern replacing their relaxed smile. They sat up a little straighter.

Mrs. Williams leaned in, her eyes pleading. “Frankie is… she’s not like other people. It’s not just her shyness or her anxiety. She was born with something… well, we don’t have a name for it. The doctors don’t, either. The closest we can come is to say… Frankie is omnipotent.”

There was a long pause. The person’s brow furrowed, a mix of confusion and disbelief on their face.

Mr. Williams pressed on, knowing this was the critical moment. “She can make anything real. Her whims, her thoughts, her desires—they just… happen. She doesn’t even have to try. It can be a simple thing, like the lamp flickering when she's upset, or it can be something impossible… or contradictory. It’s not magic; it’s… a different kind of reality.”

Mrs. Williams’ eyes were welling up, a tear finally escaping and tracing a path down her cheek. “Her powers are linked to her emotions. The more anxious she is, the more erratic they become. When she was little, people found out, and they… they used her. They exploited her. We had to move constantly. That’s why we homeschooled her. It’s why she’s so shy and anxious. We just want her to be safe. We need to know that you won’t judge her, or fear her, or try to use her. We need to know that you can handle this truth.”

The silence that followed was deafening, a bubble of unspoken tension in the otherwise bustling coffee shop. The parents held their breath, their hearts in their throats, watching the online friend’s face for any sign of revulsion, fear, or, worst of all, a calculating glint in their eyes.

Meanwhile, in the car parked a hundred feet away, Frankie hugged herself tightly, her knees pulled to her chest. She had a view of the coffee shop entrance, but she couldn’t see what was happening...