Page 6 of Hex Appeal

And everywhere else?

Candles. Shelves and shelves of candles. More like death traps waiting to happen.

“Good morning.”

I turn toward the voice. And forget about the candles.

The woman smiling at me has long, curly red hair falling over her shoulders and the brightest green eyes I’ve ever seen.

Then there are the curves. Plenty of them. Every single one in exactly the right place.

“Can I help you find something?”

It takes me a second longer than it should to remember why I’m here. “I’m just looking.”

“Of course.” Her smile somehow gets even brighter. “Let me know if you have any questions.”

She turns away. I watch her go for longer than I should.

I grab the nearest candle and look down at it before my eyes can wander back to the redhead.

The label says FOCUS.

Apparently, I need some of what it promises.

I turn the jar over. There’s a warning label on the bottom.

I read through it. Trim the wick. Keep the candle away from flammable objects and drafts. Burn it on a stable, heat-resistant surface. Never leave it unattended.

Basic candle safety. All clearly spelled out.

That’s something, at least. Not that people ever fucking read.

I put it back and pick up another. Same warning.

Across the room, the redhead is helping a teenage girl. I try not to listen. It doesn’t work.

“When you light this tonight, I want you to decide what you need to accomplish,” she tells the girl. “Not everything you have to do this week. Just what you’re doing right then.”

She rests her hands on the girl’s shoulders and tells her to breathe.

Jesus.

She’s one of those people. Bubbly. Optimistic. Probably wakes up and shits rainbows first thing.

I can’t decide if I like it or find it annoying.

She smiles. My gut tightens.

Definitely annoying.

I move to another shelf.

The candles themselves look well made. Clean pours. Centered wicks. No obvious cracks in the glass. I pick up another jar and remove the lid.

Cedar. Something herbal. Maybe citrus. Not bad.

I put it down and move on.