7: Love Potion Number Zero

Seems safe. Photo an alteration of one by Alex Simpson on Unsplash

“Are you here for potions?” she asks.

“Uh, no. I’m Gabriel, I – ”

“Because I don’t have any potions!”

“Okay.”

“Got to make them on the full moon, and, well, there isn’t really a moon anymore. I could read your tea! Or maybe you’d like relationship advice.”

“Uh…”

“Yes! You look like a young man in love! But love that comes easily leaves just so! And when time withers the fruit, what remains? Only a reputation and one’s good name. Trust your father!”

I look over her shoulder to the room behind. It looks rustic and old-fashioned, but – somehow – wrong. I can’t quite figure it out.

“I don’t really – I mean, I’m just here to – ”

My eyes wander to the doorway she blocks. The wood, there’s something – yes, I can make it out in the dim light. Every inch of the wooden door has tiny letters carved into it.

I feel light-headed.

“Did you – did you – ” I begin.

“What, more advice? I know a little phrenology…”
​
“Did you say …tea?”