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| Purple |
She couldn’t believe it. It was him, the man with the
limp. The cards were on the table. The fortune teller walked out of the room to
fetch a spell. Yes, she would have to pay extra for that. And she was sure the
man would be there, waiting for her right around the corner, as he always did
for the past months. The spell would take care of it. After all, she wanted to
have a prince, not a frog. Months later, after the wedding, she came back to
the fortune teller. She needed the spell again. Had it not worked? It had, yes,
thank you, but now she was the frog, limping, and her prince was starting to
look at other princesses. The fortune teller shrugged, walked out of the room
to fetch the spell and thought this marriage would probably not last long, limp
or no limp, spell or no spell. Some things are just not meant to be stirred.
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