TEDDY
The town slept as we parked outside LuLu’s shop. It was small, less popular than her Diner. She treated local shifters’ ailments and sold tourist trinkets in front. She opened it after Bethany’s shop closed to help the town’s attractions.
Fog curled along empty streets, wrapping old buildings. Neon beer signs in the bar across the road, left on overnight, were the only signs of life. The only sound was my truck engine ticking as it cooled.
The witches’ shop sat at the street’s end—small, crooked, unsettling if stared at too long.
During the day, most people thought the place looked charming, perhaps mystical.
Touristy, absolutely.
Painted signs in the window advertised tarot readings, teas, incense, and handmade charms. The sign By Appointments Only! hung proudly by the door.
