AISLYNLate afternoon light filters through the narrow window, pale and slanted, dust motes drifting like slow, uncertain thoughts. The hours have blurred together inside this room. Morning came and went in the blink of an eye. Breakfast arrived on a wooden tray, and I took it myself, careful to block the doorway with my body, careful not to let curious eyes wander past me into the shadows behind.

I smiled. I thanked the maid. I closed the door.

The witch ate quietly once the lock slid home.

Now ...