A Gentle Stir

A warm hum fluttered in my chest as the shadows settled around the shelf. My fingers, so used to staying frozen round the wooden handle, suddenly felt the grain beneath my palms. With a tiny, breathless chuckle, I gave the pestle a gentle turn inside my little cauldron. A faint tap echoed softly against the ceramic rim! Below me, my shoes rested upon a dark book rimmed with little painted stars and letters that spelled out magic. My hat felt pleasantly snug, and my cheeks warmed as I tilted forward, delighted to find my hands finally ready to brew.