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.