14
Aug
Aug
What a week. My cauldron’s been brewing nothing but burnt coffee and regret, yet my broom is twitching for next Saturday’s market, when I’ll slap on some moonlight mascara and curse the alarm clock. Last week’s market was hot and sweaty, like sunbathing in dragon breath. But still wicked fun. Kids gasped, ravens heckled, and my cauldron-brewed espresso candles almost spontaneously combusted.
I’m deliriously excited to put aside the daily grind, so weekend… hurry up. I’ve got trinkets to enchant, ankles to ache, and exactly zero patience left for another meeting.