Prompt: Draw a superpower out of a hat. I drew "ice."
Time: 10 minutes
It was the perfect job for her, really. Her friends had always called her the ice queen for turning away every guy who came calling. The guys called her "frigid bitch," both in front of and behind her back. Either way, landing this gig in the jeweler's shop on Brunswick Street was perfect. She could walk to and from work, she only had to work with one person--the jeweler, Stan--and she could be as snarky as she wanted to the foolish boys and even more foolish men who carted rings in and out of the place. Stan didn't care, and all of the clients were rich enough that one moderately attractive girl's sneer didn't faze them.
For the first few weeks, she played by the rules. Her work was flawless, and Stan was elated that she was willing to stay late and work weekends. She had always preferred hard, immobile objects to people, so working with diamonds late into the night suited her just fine.
But then the clientele started getting to her. The way one man pushed his wife out the door a little too roughly, or another haggled Stan down $300 when the watch the guy was wearing cost three times what they were charging for the ring. Finally, when one guy came in three times in one day to "check on" the ring they were making for him, with a different woman on his arm each time, she lost her resolve. That night, instead of making fine cuts to the surface of the diamond and removing material from the rock, she added a few fine layers of ice--just enough to add the same sparkle and shine the cuts would have made, but not so much that the diamond was noticeably larger.
The next day, the guy came back with yet another new woman on his arm. As he complimented Stan on his fine craftsmanship, she smiled sweetly and tucked the box into its neat little paper bag.