Lavender. Dandelion, the yellow kind. Lemon juice.
I mix, crushing the solid ingredients in the bowl. I add more.
Candle wax. Rosemary leaf. Rose Quartz dust. Warm water.
I stand from my desk and leave my bedroom, bringing the bowl with me. In the bathroom, I turn the sink faucet on, let the water run at a light flow. I don't want to drown the ingredients, just immerse them enough that they collide with the water, become one. It has to be poured into a vial, thrown and broken at my feet in order for it to work properly.
With the bowl on the vanity, I wait for the water to get warm, the water at the lake in the woods kind of warm. The kind of warm that eases sore muscles, bath water. I can't rush. This needs to be perfect. No mistakes.
But what if I get there too late? She's alrea
