Tears

The room was filled with shelves; the shelves with bottles. Row upon row of tiny glass containers, no more than an ounce or two apiece. Benjamin picked one up. It was filled with clear liquid, stoppered tightly. It was labeled, “Wounded Child.”

“Tears,” said Jessica. “Ingredients for my spells.”

“Spells?” gasped Benjamin. “Then you’re-“

“A witch? It’s about time you figured it out. All the years I’ve been using you…”

Benjamin couldn’t stop the tears.

“At last! The Betrayed Swain!” Jessica’s eyes gleamed as she held a bowl beneath his streaming chin. “I owe you more than you realize, lover.”