“Fine!” you grumble, fists clenched. “I’ll give you a 500-ml phial, I surely will! In a week. Yes. I’ll give you a 500-ml phial of magic in a week.” How will I ever find that much money in a week? Why didn’t I want to humiliate myself instead? I slap my forehead three times. Stupid pride. Stupid Becca.
Your eyes are averting Becca’s gaze, a gaze depicting shock and wonder, as you look down on the ground where nobody is neither judging you nor your choices. Did I make the wrong decision? “What?” you inquire shrugging your shoulders, in a voice filled with pride, the same one that has prevented you from humiliating yourself, and that will prevent you from eating edible food for the next month. “You thought I was going to execute your order, didn’t you?” As if!
“Work!” you cry, body straightening up after such memory of your imminent tardiness arrived, unannounced, within your mind. “I’m so late, late, late!”
You feed your last cup holders to the jack-o-lantern that let out, after its delicious feast, a loud and smelly belch. In front of your nose, you wave a hand, brow furrowed in disgust. “Really!?” you yell at the spell-driven pumpkin. “After I’ve shown you such generosity, that’s how you repay me?”
“Hunnn-gryyy,” thanks the pumpkin before you initiate your escape. You will need to buy a new pair of shoes, at this rate.
“Don’t worry, Becca,” you shout. “I’ll repay you in a week.” Becca’s eyebrows wrinkle in remorse. “I know where you live, remember?”
“How can I forget? Wai— Skyra! Come back here,” she guiltily pleads, right hand raised as if she had a question to ask. But, what inquiries could she possibly have in mind? Would she desire to know why you voluntarily gave up all of your fortune to live the life of an Enchanter Detective, or why you ran away from home, fell the social ladder, and somehow managed to stand on your own?
Sadness is squeezing your heart between its hands as you disregard Becca’s pleading. “Faster, faster!” you motivate yourself, feet running towards the nearest Cups & Cauldrons while you ignore your heart’s agony. “No, no, no! Look at the line!” you complain, both hands on top of your head once you have reached the coffee shop. You scrutinize the location trying to find a solution, alas nothing that could speed up your misfortune captures your attention.
“Excuse me,” you say to the lady standing in front of you, index finger softly pressing on her left shoulder like you are knocking on the door of her body. “Hi,” you greet her tired and annoyed face with your best smile. “I’m very, very late for work, so I was wondering if we could switch places,” you nicely ask, eyelashes beating fast, two fingers pressing each other in a gentle kiss. “No!” she yells, clearly indicating her hasten need for caffeine.
At last, you wait in line, impatient and dispirited, as you hope that no more complications arise. You have lost a 500-ml phial of magic (money that you still do not possess and that you still do not know how to get), and perhaps your job because you are undeniably late despite the choice you have made earlier today. However, you cheer up because you still have, in the end, your dignity, and that proves to be worth more than all your commodities.