Del
I wait in my car outside the small coffee shop three towns over, trying to gather my bearings. It’s a windy autumn day, the sky above me grey and heavy, the air dry, scratchy. It’s warmer for this time of year, but people say it’s the global warming which is a thing in this day and age.
My eyes remain narrowed on the front door, on the bell that rings with every customer going in. There’s a Christmas wraith already and also some fresh looking but definitely overdue carved pumpkins with lit candles inside of them. In the greyness of today they look alive, cheerful. Fun. Like the young girl who owns the coffee shop.
I may look like it but I am not young. I am not cheerful. There’s not a fun bone left in my body. I am the creepy old witch who tries to steel the young prince’s heart and
