I sprinted up the stairs, sweat pouring down my forehead. I would've taken the elevator but someone decided to stick a needle in the keypad, jamming it. Now I have to climb eleven floors up to an overly dramatic and frustrating director.

I panted as I reached the door, holding the handle and catching my breath. Then inhaled and straightened my blouse, smoothening my hair. Then pushed the door open.

"Morgan!" A deep, angry voice thundered.

Shit.

Mr. Jefferson stormed over. Face flushed. Eyes blazing like someone personally offended him by just existing. "You’re late!"

"By literally a minute," I muttered.

"You're so incompetent! I've been waiting for over five minutes—"

Like the world would implode if I didn't materialize exactly on his schedule. The same minutes I used to run up here because he forgot to call a technician to fix the damn elevator! I sighed inwardly and let him rant.

"…Now where is the Trojan file?" He demanded.

"Left corner on your desk. Which I placed yesterday and already told you this three times since today." I sighed.

He opened his mouth to speak, forming no words. Happens often.

At last, he huffed, "Get to work."

He marched off. I exhaled, dragging myself to my desk. This definitely is the start of a very long day.

---

"You can't be serious," Anna, who's supposed to be my best friend, laughed.

"Deadass," I replied and took a swing of another drink. My third since she dragged me to a bar to relieve my work stress after—well, work.

"And you just let him off?" She said in disbelief.

"He's my boss," I deadpanned.

"So? I would have given him a piece of my mind," she said.

"Are you trying to get me fired?" I asked her.

"No. I'm trying to get you confident cause let's be honest, he can't do that if I were there," she flipped her hair.

"He wouldn't dare," I sipped.

"Exactly," she stated.

I laughed. God knows I was too tired and frustrated at life to do that. As much as I hated Mr Jefferson, I still needed the job. It wasn't even much, just an accountant in an almost run-down company.

I sighed, "Well this has been fun. But sadly I have work tomorrow so I can't arrive with a hangover else I'd actually get fired."

"Awwn, but we only started," She whined.

"Anna, it's 9pm and you're drunk," I stood up, helping her up with me.

It's a good thing I wasn't lightweight. But it was times like this that made me regret it. I paid for the drinks and helped a directionally impaired Anna from diving into a pole. I begin to wonder if she actually brought me to relieve my stress or hers.

"Where do you live Anna?" I asked.

She mumbled, "Charles."

I sighed. Makes more sense. She was currently on the hunt for a new apartment since the one she lived in exploded. Literally.

I called her boyfriend Charles. Who she recently got with. Good thing he had a car cause he came pretty quick.

"Another night?" He guessed as he saw her practically lying on me.

"Yep," I affirmed.

At this point I just gave her to him. Then watched him place her carefully in the car before waving and driving off. Poor guy.

I exhaled and stared at the path in front of me, then began my journey home. The streets were getting quiet as less cars were passing. I slipped my hands in my coat, staring at the stars. I sometimes wondered what it'll be like if I had a lot of money. Would I still work? Get married? Have kids?

I shuddered at the idea. It wasn't bad, but seemed impossible at the moment. Not with the current me and my account balance. Plus, kids terrify me.

By the time I turned into an alley, my feet felt like they were about to file a complaint against me. Work had drained every last drop of energy from my soul, and at this point I was ready to collapse on the sidewalk and accept my fate as street décor.

The alley was filled with dumpsters and trash, but also happened to be the shortest route home. I was so exhausted that I didn't notice a tin can nearby and tripped on it.

…Fantastic.

I stood up with a soft groan. Naturally, that was the moment a woman in a dark gown and cloak stepped out of the shadows. Not just any woman. A woman who looked like she’d been sculpted by a committee of gods with too much free time. Tall, radiant, ethereal like she had swallowed a whole constellation and was using the excess light as a fashion statement.

Her cloak shimmered unnaturally. Her curly hair floated like it had its own personal wind machine. I blinked. Twice. Then snorted.

"Wow," I said flatly. "Love, the commitment. Is Comic-Con happening in April now, or…?"

The woman stared at me like I just slapped her with a baguette. "This is not a costume."

"Sure," I nodded, smacking my lips. "And I’m the Queen of Narnia."

"You should be cowering," She stepped closer, chin tilting upward in indignation. "For I am a witch."

"Of course you are," I said. "I mean, the sparkles gave it away. Real subtle."

Her lips parted, offended. "Are mocking me."

"Not at all," I said, waving dismissively. "Just… appreciating the effort. Really dedicated. Like, Netflix-level production quality."

Then added, "But sweetheart, you’re standing in an alleyway wearing a sparkly gown and a cape. If you’re not doubting yourself, I don’t know what to tell you."

Her jaw dropped slightly. She glanced down at her clothes, murmuring, "This is traditional witch attire."

"For what? Twilight Fashion Week?"

"It is ceremonial."

"It is way past my pay-grade," I corrected. "You know what, tell HR they got me on this one. I'll even let you take a picture."

Her eyes narrowed. Her disbelief was almost comical. "You are remarkably insolent. I could turn you into a toad with a flick of my fingers."

"Yeah," I said, patting her arm as I walked past, "but please don’t. My day has been rough enough. I don’t need to hop home."

She pulled me back—not roughly, but with surprising gentleness. Her fingers were warm. Too warm. Okay… weird.

"Listen carefully," she said, voice dropping into a velvety low tone. "I will grant you one wish. Anything your heart desires."

"Oh boy."

"At a price."

"Here it comes."

She paused, letting the words hang between us for dramatic effect. "In exchange… I shall own your firstborn child.”

I stared at her for a full three seconds. Then burst out laughing.

"Oh my God, you really went all in with the classic witch package. Respect." I snorted. "Firstborn child? What am I, a fairy-tale peasant?”

"I am not joking," she hissed.

"Darling, nobody who sparkles that much is ever joking."

"You mock me," she said, voice rising.

"I do," I nodded. "It’s very therapeutic."

She stepped closer—so close I could smell jasmine and something smoky. Her eyes glowed like molten gold. "Name your wish."

"Fine, fine." I waved a hand lazily, wiping a tear with the other. "Sure. I wish people at work would actually respect me. You know—listen to me, value me, stop treating me like the office coaster."

She snapped her fingers, "Done."

I raised an eyebrow, half-expecting a burst of glitters. "Really?"

She raised her chin proudly, "I know, don't thank me yet. Remember you have to repay with your first born child. Farewell."

Then she vanished with a poof of smoke. Literally vanished. I stood alone in the alley. Then blinked. Once. Twice.

"That's some neat trick," I murmured, glancing around.

"…Okay," I whispered. "Either I’m drunk, hallucinating… or I just flirted with a witch in a cosplay costume."

Honestly?

Not the weirdest part of my day.