ask if there are refunds?
ME
I hate both of you deeply
VERONICA
you love us
DANI
screen record the process!!! send us a vlog.
Ohhhh maybe you’ll go viral you know the girlies love the online witches babe
Absolutely not.
These two women already have enough material to psychoanalyze me for free. With the whole klutz girlie thing I have going for me.
Between the dating disasters, the chronic lateness, and the fact that I somehow miss the bus often enough that there’s a group of middle schoolers who clap and cheer me on when I run by them every morning, they have years of material.
I don’t need to start supplying visual aids, too.
I look back at the page again.
Every ritual is crafted with intention, care, and the belief that love begins with openness, it reads.
But I’m open! I really do believe that love begins with openness. So why does that word press strangely against my ribs?
I don’t think magic is real, per se. But I do believe in rituals and habits and intentionality. And I also want to believe I’m being intentional, always. Perhaps that’s why it feels like I’m trying too hard.
People cut their hair after breakups, they eat grapes under a table at the stroke of midnight on New Year’s, they throw coins in fountains and close their eyes while making wishes.
My throat suddenly feels tight as I type one last thing before I lose my nerve.
“I’m starting to think that maybe I’m the problem? Or possibly the problem and a curse are working together.”
I stare at the sentence. Then add: “I realize those are not mutually exclusive. And anyway, I don’t know how to fix it.”
Silence settles across the house after I finish typing. Even the car alarm from outside has finally stopped.
For a second, all I can hear is the pitter-patter of rain against my window.
This is insane. Like actually, certifiably insane.
I’m about to send a deeply personal confession to an online witch named The Third Fairy because two of my friends got tipsy on margaritas and decided I needed some sort of celestial customer support.
Reasonable people do yoga. Touch grass. Go to therapy.
I buy spells on the internet.
I hover over the submit button. Then, before I can reread anything and delete every word out of shame, I hit send.
The confirmation page loads instantly.
ORDER CONFIRMED.
I stare at it in horror.
