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excellent question.” He did an aerial loop off my shoulder.
    I looked at him as much as I dared. “I need to know what’s going on!”
    He hovered by my studio window and gazed at the stars. “What is going on depends upon you,” he said. “You’re in control, Allison Jean McCreary, of what you choose to examine in your life.”
    I gripped the doorknob.
    The cupid’s face darkened. “I’ve always wondered why people are so afraid to trust.”
    I clutched my heart.
    Sadness flashed in his eyes again. “Some things in life can only be learned through trust.” He fingered his bow slowly.
    A wave of warmth was oozing over me, drawing me to something I didn’t understand.
    “You must listen to the things that you try to ignore,” he commanded.
    The cupid zipped to the window and fluttered his wings. “I see you’re frowning, my friend. For a while I expect you to be most miserable.”

    The cupid hovered over my right knee like Tinkerbell with an attitude. I sat on my shaking hands.
    He raised his teeny bow. “There is no time to dawdle!”
    I watched him, dumbstruck. Then suddenly, magically, I saw the answer to one of my problems. I was inches away from the photograph of the century! I’d call
Life, National Geographic
, the London
Times, People
, and
Scientific American.
I would become famous. I picked up my F2 behind my back and smiled.
    The cupid shook his head. “Only you can see me, my friend. I am not photographable.”
    I held my camera tight. “Let’s just make sure…” I raised the camera to eye level, my keen eye instantly catching the essence of a bona fide, flitting miracle…my finger whooshed across the clicker, which was…
    Stuck.
    Blast!
    I slammed the clicker down again. It was no use.
    “This,” said the cupid, “is an excellent time to inform you of the laws governing the Visitation.” He did an aerial somersault and landed on my bookcase. “First and foremost, only
you
can see me”—he smiled at Stieglitz—“and your dog, of course.” Stieglitz barked at the word
dog
and looked confused. “Secondly, you are to tell no one of the Visitation, until such time as you have reached a deeper plane of understanding and can address the experience with maturity and clarity.
    “Thirdly,” the cupid explained, “we must press on or the Visitation will be rendered incomplete; we have a short period in which to accomplish monumental tasks, which will become clear to you in the doing—not until then. And fourthly”—the cupid hovered to the right of my nose—“I have come to assist you, Allison Jean McCreary,not to harm you. The sooner you believe this basic tenet, the quicker we can proceed.”
    I gulped. Earth rules I could handle:
    Smile at someone and they’ll smile at you.
    Take the lens cap off the camera before you take the picture.
    Never date a hockey player.
    But when you’re dealing with the cosmos, all bets are off.
    The cupid rapped his quiver. “You have a photography deadline, I believe? A deadline that has brought you discouragement?”
    I looked away. He had that right.
    “It is possible,” the cupid said, “to reverse discouragement.”
    I positioned myself on my purple Persian pillow with guarded body language.
    “You were trying to please others with this photography assignment on love,” the cupid said, “not yourself.”
    That frosted me!
He
hadn’t been battling massive unrequitedness.
He
didn’t have Pearly Shoemaker as a gut-busting editor.
    “You cannot blame others, my friend. You are discouraged because you have not been true to your vision.”
    “I don’t have a vision for love right now! That’s my problem! Would you please stop reading my mind?”
    “I’m afraid that is impossible. It is not within my power to disconnect us. Confusion, when addressed, can bring forth clarity. Find something that reflects how you feel about love and photograph it.”
    “
Thanks for that little tip! What do you think I’ve been doing for the last two