X-Ray vision.
Jujube giggled at all the funny things inside Mummah. “Mummah aww fuww of bwobs!”
“Yes, dear.” Mummah sighed and wrapped more of her hair around a curling iron.
“Dewe wots an wots mowe dan dewe was yesserday!”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Jujube.” Mummah scowled in the mirror. “I hope that dress fits.”
Jujube followed Mummah to the hidey-closet. She pounced shoes and purses while Mummah took out a long black dress and sighed.
“At least Hal is out of pain now.”
“Daddeh hab bwobs, too! When Daddeh back?”
“Jujube.” Mummah knelt. “I told you. He had cancer. He’s not coming back.”
“Oh.” Jujube slouched. Mummah scratched her head. “Mummah home soon?”
“I’m just going to the viewing, sweetheart. The funeral is tomorrow.”
Mummah stepped into her dress, which hung loose over her body. Well, nobody could expect a new widow to be her best, even if it was a relief to see Hal finally at peace. A faint headache formed behind her eyes, and she focused on her breathing more than Hal’s headache, the one that turned out to be stage four stomach cancer.
Jujube giggled. “Mummah! Mummah got mowe bwobs! It funny!”
“Yes, dear,” Mummah said, and went to apply her lipstick.
Next power: pyrokinesis.
(I’m tempted to do voice recordings of all of these. I’ll see if I’m up for it.)