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going to use the seeds.
    He organized and straightened the tools, checked the soil to ensure the seedlings were moist, allowed himself one last admiring look before re-latching the rabbit gate, and then he went inside as darkness fell on the city oasis.
    Then he recalled Luke’s suggestion. Yosemite it would be.
    ****
    “Good morning, mon!” Rhashan paused, hand on the divider next to Harold’s desk. “Say, wot’s this?”
    Harold chided himself for setting the Kaleidoscope in full view as Rhashan picked it up. He was primed for the next step in his plan; the toy was an interruption.
    “Mind if I look?” Rhashan emitted a low whistle as he spun the dial and then froze, his breath rushing between the gap in his teeth. Slowly, he lowered the ’scope and laid it on the desk like a fragile vial of nitro. “Where you git such a t’ing?” He backed up into the mail cart, catching it as it tipped, spilling the contents.
    “It’s just something I’m keeping for a…friend.”
    Rhashan’s complexion swirled from espresso to latte, his focus on the drawer where Harold dropped the Kaleidoscope and closed it out of sight.
    “Are you all right? You look like you’ve seen…” Harold didn’t believe in ghosts, and he hated the cliché, so he allowed the question to trail off, but Rhashan didn’t seem to be listening anyway. “Can I get you a drink of water?” He stood.
    It would cut into the time he’d allotted for the Trevathan account, but Harold could hardly let Rhashan stand there, mouth agape. “Here, sit.” Harold realized the man wasn’t going to allow him to maneuver him any closer because of whatever evil he perceived lurked in the drawer, so he rolled the chair behind him and pushed down on his shoulders. He snagged a cone cup from the cooler, filled it and returned to Rhashan, who perked up a little once he’d managed a sip.
    Crushing the paper cup in his large hand, Rhashan stood, the chair walloping the wall. “Mr. Harold, I wouldn’t have figured you for someone who played wid other people’s mind.” Colorful beads strung along his dreads clicked together as his head shook side to side. “But whatever you’re trying to do wid that t’ing, you’re dabbling in something you shouldn’t.”
    “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Harold was getting a little impatient with all this talk of warnings and being careful. “It’s just a toy.” Perhaps Rhashan didn’t understand how the glass slid around to vary the images and so he and started to explain the mechanics.
    “Oh no, it’s more than dat.” Rhashan’s silver-ringed finger pointed. “Tell me what you see inside.”
    To prove a point, Harold removed the ’scope from the drawer and put it up to his eye. “I see colors and shapes that change when you—”
    “Oh, no, mon!” Rhashan jumped back, hands up, when Harold held it back out to him. The metal had warmed, and something shivered from within.
    “What do you think you saw?” Harold was worried about the time, but he couldn’t let Rhashan think he was trying to trick him, or that he was into magic arts or anything as lame as that.
    “I see myself.”
    Harold blinked, sorting through the possibilities. The harsh fluorescent lighting might have caused the enigma. “You see…” He held it up to demonstrate. “The shapes could have fallen into an image resembling just about anything. You’re wearing the same shades that appear inside, right?” They looked down at the tie-dyed shirt. “That’s all it is, a reflection—”
    Vigorous bead-clinking. “Dat not it. I see myself in a black robe and…” Rhashan held a flattened palm inches above his dreads. “What you call this hat when you graduate?”
    “Mortarboard?”
    “Yah, mon! I see that.” Something dashed behind Rhashan’s dark eyes.
    Harold turned the ’scope over while he mulled what was going on, and then it occurred to him. Probably been smoking wacky tobacky . “Well, that’s