The woman quirked an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Hello. Are you going to purchase something?”

  Damn, thought Em. Their flirting game must be off–this woman was unphased. Maybe another time, then. Grunting, they pushed to their feet and brushed off their clothes, rubbing the top of their sore head one more time. “I, uh…what is this place again?”

  The woman looked miffed. “Magnolia Medicines. You didn’t look before coming in?”

  Em laughed awkwardly, trying to go for charming ignorance. They glanced around, taking the shop in–had they ever been inside here before? “Uh…Sorry, no. I was being chased by the policing guards…”

  The policing guards?!

  The woman’s red eyes flashed. While Em took in the shelves and barrels of herbs lining the walls and hanging from the ceiling, the woman curled her fists, lips pursing tightly. The very shadows seemed to swirl around her, making her look terrifying.

  “Get out of my shop.”

  Em jumped, paling. They double-took, staring at the woman dumbly. “Huh?”

  The woman pointed towards the door with a firm, slender finger. “Out. Of my shop. Now.”

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  Seeing the utterly frightening look on the woman’s face, Em decided to cut their flirtation losses and turned to leave, giving a two-fingered salute.

  “See ya around, then. Nice shop you have here…haha…Okay bye!”

  The woman glared in response. Em shivered slightly. Then they scrambled out the door and into the afternoon, off to find a less intimidating location to hide out in from the guards.

  The woman watched as this street rat scurried out of her apothecary shop, eyes as cold as ice. Only after the door had closed did she drop her crossed arms and stop scowling.

  “Normies. Fucking insufferable. How can you be that clueless? Leading the policing guards right to a witch’s shop…Gods…Were they trying to get me investigated?”

  The woman glided over to her clerk counter. When she walked, it was as though she was flying smoothly over the ground. Her long, deep violet dress trailed past her feet, and the padded slippers she wore underneath made no noise upon stepping. Irritably, she pulled open a drawer of yellowish roots, picked a small one out, and began to mash it with a mortar and pestle that seemed to appear out of thin air.

  Everyone suspects apothecaries are run by witches in this city. And everyone knows that witchcraft’s punishable by the stake. That street rat must have been either very stupid or utterly malicious to lead those guards to my doorstep. And I’m guessing it was the former, considering the moronically clueless look on their face, she thought to herself. She thought on the face of that street rat a moment more: pointed, ghostly pale, like an elf, with soft blue eyes. A cute nose, slightly upturned.

  …Cute?