The Devil Made Me Brew It (The Witches of Wayward Bay)

by Sarah Piper

Fiona passes me a glass mug filled with something slushy, cheerfully yellow, and piping hot, garnished with mint leaves and a sugared lemon slice. How she managed to make a hot slushy is beyond me, but hey. Magic. Hell of a thing.

“You were supposed to be a pivot table!” “A pivot table?” I try to recall the term. Not sure I’ve heard it before, but it sounds a bit like... “Oh! Is that a sexual device? The one with the leather straps and all the different notches for the—” “It’s a spreadsheet function! Spreadsheets! My love language! How could I screw this up?”

“It’s a strange thing to be surrounded by people, yet feel so desperately alone, you wonder if you might literally disappear. Or worse—if you already have.”

Every day is a gift, Violet. Find the joy in this one. Do that every day, one after the other, and your entire life will be filled with beautiful blessings.