“I don’t have the time to devote to circles or covens. I have to fit things in when and where I can, in stolen moments and cups of coffee.Stirring clockwise to conjure.Widdershins to banish.There’s never enough time, and rarely enough caffeine, but I make do with what I have. Besides, cauldrons and pointy hats are overrated.Sometimes I see other customers practicing. Pouring their cream and sugar with studied intent. Stirring with purpose.I add an extra spoonful of sugar to my own coffee for them, to make all of our enchantments sweeter.”

“I sipped my own coffee, heavy on the sugar and cream, trying to make up for the late work the night before. Caffeine and sugar, the two basic food groups.”

“I drink coffee like a civilized man—alone in a cave, wearing a loincloth, and grunting in frustration because my club is too thick to fit in my cup to stir in the sugar.”

“Her name was Rebecca. Or at least that’s what her nametag said. She was making my coffee at Starbucks as I admired how her green Starbucks apron matched her bright green eyes. She had hair the color of coffee with a hint of cream in it. I was trying to act casual and not make it seem like I came in here only to see her. The truth is, I hate coffee. That’s not entirely true. I do like a hint of coffee in my cup of sugar.”

“Drink it,” I told her. “It’s good for what ails you. Caffeine and sugar. I don’t drink it, so I ran over to your house and stole the expensive stuff in your freezer. It shouldn’t be that bad. Samuel told me to make it strong and pour sugar into it. It should taste sort of like bitter syrup.” She gave me a smile smile, then a bigger one, and plugged her nose before she drank it down in one gulp. “Next time," she said in a hoarse voice, “I make the coffee.”

“I do what I have to do to survive because that’s all I know. I don’t make excuses, I own it. This is me, this is who I am, this is my life. It shames me but not enough to stop.”