I read a few of the lines and stirred clockwise. I kept my voice low and steady, reciting the incantation for practice's sake.
Inhaling a breath, I glanced out the kitchen window where the morning sun spilled over my small herb garden, which still had a thin coating of snow.
No mistakes this time, Maeve, I told myself.
“This is going to be fine,” I murmured to myself. “Just a normal, month-long aversion therapy spell. Nothing complicated.”
Right.
A simple spell to rid me of ex-related thoughts.
By then, I’d already daydreamed about throwing Wisconsin’s finest potatoes at his smug face.
So why not craft a new approach? One that created some sort of physical discomfort if his name so much as skimmed my mind. Drastic, sure, but I was desperate for closure, or at least an empty mind that wanted no part of him.
Go big or go home.
Hiccups it is.
“I’d stay in the other room, Dad,” I called.
I added a pinch of thyme from my herb tin, the aromatic dust floating into the small cauldron perched on my stovetop.
So far, so good.
A little bit of wing dust.
I frowned and thought about that.
Whose wings?
Scooping a bit into the pot, I shrugged off that worry and forged ahead.
A cup of apple cider vinegar, a scoop of rue, one strand of my hair, two pinches of baking soda, and a few little words spoken over the bubbling brew.
“Let this Alex thought fizzle and bubble away,
with a hiccup loud enough to ruin my day.
This is mine and mine to mend,
My thoughts no longer shall pretend.
Each time I stray to thoughts unwelcome,
Let me sneeze or wheeze or mildly yelp them.
Each time that name dares drift through my brain,
let my diaphragm clench and strain.”
I recited the incantation, stirring in lazy circles. The brew started to bubble. My ex’s name perched at the back of my brain, but I resisted it.
Keep it out, Maeve.
Don’t even glance at that mental image. Not now, or you’ll blow up the pot.
But some cosmic force wanted to test me.
