Page 43 of Fang Fatale

"She texted at nine."

She clears her throat dramatically.

"Fever broke. Hate it here. Will return to haunt you tomorrow. Pls do not let anyone else touch the sourdough starter."

"So..."

Clover pockets her phone.

"She's alive."

We carry our coffees outside and settle onto the front steps.

People wander lazily past the bakery.

A troll walking a pug.

A witch arguing with her broom.

Someone's raven stealing a muffin.

Normal.

Wonderfully, gloriously normal.

Maybe it's just the caffeine.

Maybe it's relief.

Either way, I catch myself thinking...

This feels like a life someone could actually want.

Clover bumps my shoulder.

"You're not watching the street today."

I glance up.

"I guess not."

"Progress?"

I smile into my coffee.

"I'm still me."

A pause.

"But I'm not as afraid of being seen."

"Good."

She follows something with her eyes beyond my shoulder.

"I've suddenly remembered I need to rotate the muffins."

"We did that ten minutes ago."