Lainie Bishop

The Cost of Love

Kate trailed her finger along the dusty, wooden shelves. She'd already taken two or three laps around the store, had memorized every aisle. Each one had an endless assortment of crystals, glowing bottles, and obscure herbs with seemingly unpronounceable names. If another customer needed help finding an item, she'd be confident in her ability to direct them. That is, if there were any other customers. Occasionally the young girl would stop, feign interest in a trinket, and peek over her shoulder at the woman behind the counter.