It wasn't long before Myra was back to her regular life, one fun night over and quickly done with. 

She sat cosy in her shop, brewing new teas with fruity aromas, handing small ceramic cups out for –she hoped– customers to try.

Despite her bad reputation, Myra did have a sugar-spoon full of regular customers. Typically elder women with kind smiles and warm eyes. Women who had families of all kinds with men and women welcomed in by marriage, or kids and grands that had brought dozens of friends in for supper and biscuits. They were no longer the type to judge.

Magnolia was such a lady, with braided brown hair sparingly touched by the greys of her 60s. She always wore florals, said in her youth she hated everything to do with flowers. The look, the scent and most of all, her name. But she grew into it and likes to say it just took her a while to bloom. 

“Would you try my new ‘Summer Dusk’ tea, Magna? Rosehip and apple fruit tea?” Myra asked, sliding a shot-sized cup across the countertop. 

Magna didn't hesitate. “Ooh, that smells divine.” She said after a sniff. Her voice was low and smooth, a melody that Myra would love to adopt one day. It was certainly comforting.

“Wait until you try it.” Myra said with a smile and a wink.

“When will you be stocking your autumn teas again?” She asked before a sip of the sample. Her eyes grew wide and her smile consumed her face, wrinkling her skin just a little bit more. But that was okay, Magna called all of her wrinkles marks of happiness. “This is amazing!” 

Myra laughed quietly. “Autumn stock will begin before August ends, when the plants come into season. But between you and me,” Myra shuffled onto the edge of her seat, leaning over the counter, “I can get a few pouches to you in just a few weeks.” 

Magnolia couldn't hide her joy if she tried. “Fantastic! While I wait, I'll definitely be taking some of this Dusk stuff please.”

With a smile, Myra prepared a graciously filled bag for her.

Her smile wouldn't stay for long as someone sat on the once vacant stool beside her. “Already made a sale? I was only tidying for a few minutes!” Dacien cheerily said.

“A few minutes too short.” Myra grumbled while sticking the pouch closed. 

Dacien had, deplorably, shown up soon after the shop opened at 9 sharp.

“I brought some cards!” He had said in the threshold of her once peaceful shop. “You've never seen someone shuffle a deck like I can!” 

Myra would never admit how impressed she was with the way he shuffled the cards around his palms and through the air as if he could control the wind itself. It kept Myra's attention for all but 5 seconds. 

He had watched Myra carefully for a reaction, but when he came up null, he unfortunately decided to stay anyway and had been pestering Myra ever since. She countered his insistence by giving him countless jobs to keep him busy.

“Better than you taking up valuable space in my tiny store.” Myra had said.

Magna looked between the two, paying close attention to Dacien's sheepish smile, his hair messy from running around. Myra's hair was messy too, it always was: she cut it herself and still hadn't quite gotten the hang of it. But Myra was less smiley – much less. 

“I thought you'd appreciate my haste. You told me to organise your books and files, I work in the town's record department,” Dacien rolled his hands as if to say ‘you know the rest’.

Myra couldn't help her own hands, rubbing her forehead right above her nose. “Yes, I know. You work a smart government job. You'd think because of that you'd understand why I keep giving you these chores.”

“Are you…saying you don't actually want my help? Because you can just say the words.”

“No Dacien, I don't want your help! But I can't just say those words because you struggle taking no for a damn answer!”

Myra tried to reel her anger in, she knew it could get bad if she lost her composure. Really bad. She took a deep breath, held her hand up to keep Dacien quiet and struck a smile onto her face. “Sorry Magna. Here's your tea, that'll be 30 pence please.”

Magna happily dug her change out from her foliage-embroidered coin pouch. She shook her head, “I'll be out of your hairs soon, that way you can both talk. Properly. Overcome whatever you're going through.”

“Oh no,” Myra stepped in, “you make it seem like we've hit a rough patch in our relationship! There is no relationship. Not even friends.”

Dacien stood up from his stool to speak, “Not friends? After all the time we've spent together?”

“What time? The time you spent pestering me in here? And don't even bring up the work party. I saw you in the distance between the crowds of people for the entire night until we left!” Myra huffed and accused, while taking Magnolia's money and transferring it to the shop's tills. She took a break from her furious frowns to smile at the old lady. “Thank you, sweet. Have a nice day.”

“I get that it was a bad move to leave you alone, but you never came up to me that night. You didn't talk to me either!” Dacien argued back.

Myra had to clench her fists where they rested upon the worktop to keep her calm. “So it was all up to me to keep myself entertained at a party I didn't ask to go to and didn't know anyone at? You're lucky I did manage to do just that. In fact, you're lucky I found some actually nice women who didn't hate me.”

“Not everyone hates you like you love to believe.” 

Oh? That sent bolts of electricity prickling down Myra's skin, lifting her hairs up in one giant wave. She took a breath to remain calm, she had to remain calm. But the tension building inside was already starting to spill out into the palms of Myra's hands. She clasped them tight to hide what was slowly growing within.

“Oh, yeah. You would know all about how people make me feel.” She said solemnly, quietly. When Dacien couldn't reply, both to the comment and the changed tone, Myra straightened herself up. “Please either be quiet and make yourself useful, or get out.”

She tried hard not to look into Dacien's eyes, but there they gleamed with confusion, regret and a quickly fading determination. He didn't reply when he picked up a few more loose papers Myra had yet to organise on her desk. Myra felt her shoulders slowly fall from their tense position.

They were back up the second the shop's door flew open, hitting the wall of shelves with a splitting thud. With a boost of adrenaline, Myra was on her feet.

“Kala,” a young woman greeted, she was short, had hair down to her waist and a pretty dress held up with bows on the straps. Myra would've called her cute if her demeanour wasn't the epitome of distress. “I heard about your potions shop, but I didn't think it actually was one. How do you get away with this?” She said while slowly walking in, eyeing up the display glasses of different teas.

Three more girls walked in, all doing much of the same, wearing much of the same. It wasn't hard to tell they didn't like Myra much.

“They're teas and juices. Just normal things you can find anywhere else. In fact, I think somewhere else might be better suited for ladies like yourselves.” Myra said with a dismissive wave back to the door.

“Nonsense,” the first girl said. “We heard you went to the council's party last night and we would like to talk about it. How on God's precious land did a freak possessed by demented devils like yourself get invited? No no, let me guess…Witchcraft right?” She laughed with the other girls.

“I hope you didn't dress like that.” Another said, pointing to Myra's dark dress.

The first girl held her hand up, her eyes wide and mouth open. “You can't say that! That's just typical witch dress, don't be so mean. Witches can't help that they're fashion blind!” She laughed again.

Myra was beginning to feel sad about feeling sad no longer. When did I get so used to this? She heard the mumbles in her mind, but they were quickly cut off by Dacien's voice. Myra turned her head in brief shock.

“What is wrong with you girls?” Dacien had called out, his deeper voice cast loudly over the girl's laughter. It silenced them immediately. “Have you ever tried to have a conversation with Myra? Witch or not she's not worthy of such degrading comments. Besides, she pays her taxes like everybody else.” He gently shook the papers he was sorting through.

“And you are?” One of the girls said when she managed to close her mouth again.

Dacien looked at Myra, he wanted confirmation but he only got a questioning stare back. “Someone who has talked to Myra like the human being she is. Yes, she might be weird and into strange things, but that doesn't make her less than. She's got a really bad haircut but she pulls it off. I'm still not convinced she isn't a witch myself, but if she is, she's a damn good witch. She isn't evil or wrong, or a freak like you children like to think. Treat her with some respect!”

While it left the girls discouraged, Dacien's words only seemed to retrigger the anger Myra was trying so desperately to push down. She clenched her fists again but it was getting more useless by the second. She could see the magic oozing out from the cracks.

“Hahah! What?! You look like a smart man, what in the Devil's disgrace did she do to you?” The short girl held a hand over her mouth in a futile attempt to save some grace from her laughter.

“Obviously she bewitched him. Maybe a love potion.” Another girl muttered with a roll of her eyes.

“All of you need to leave.” Myra tried to say with a level voice.

No one listened.

“You are wrong, my poor sir. She is evil, she is a freak and she is downright twisted!” The girl could barely finish her sentence before they all were cast in a dark shadow.

With wide eyes, everyone turned to the window, intrigued to see what had eclipsed them in the small shop.

Every single one of Myra's windowsill plants had grown, grown so large they had covered the glass and began climbing up the ceiling. They grew thick and jagged, getting ever closer to the girls standing centre stage. The flower stalks had turned to twisted vines that began growing sharp thorns the closer they got to the girls. They were dark and gross and threatening.

Myra grew panicked, possibly more so than all of the unwanted guests. She threw her hands down with a bang, tried to shrink the plants. Pumped with adrenaline she yelled, “Everybody GET OUT!”

It took everyone mere seconds, but that felt like minutes, to move a millimetre, but the girls didn't stick around to see more. They were gone before the doorbell could finish its jingle.

Dacien swallowed his nerves, hesitantly looked at Myra and flinched when she said, “That includes you!” And he was soon out onto the street too.

Myra's heart was beating in her ears, she felt nothing but adrenaline and dread. People actually saw her using magic now. People finally knew it was all true.

Even worse than that, when Myra finally got a handle on her precious window plants, shrinking them back down to a manageable size, and not without devastating distress to their soft tissues, she uncovered the shocked face of Magnolia standing on the outside.

Even she had seen. One of the few allies Myra had knew the truth now. Myra did not feel good.