Fair
“Are you sure I look alright, Sofia?” The rush of air she made as Imara rushed through the kitchen, straightening her skirt, blew the little orange curly hairs off Sofia’s neck. “Ugh! I look like a little girl.”
Round, freckled cheeks turned from the sink and leaned back to check Imara over. “You’d look alright in a potato sack. Besides, he’ll be here to work, not to stare at you all day long. And, trust me, no man alive would ever mistake you for a little girl.”
A pink tongue slid across the witch’s palm, then pulled at the stray curl she could never smooth down as she caught her reflection in the window. “I’m so nervous; my hands are shaking like a leaf. Here, feel them.”
After she wiped her hands on her apron, Sofia felt her cold fingertips. “Bless your heart; they’re
