Page 103 of The Blue Moon Café & 24-Hour Occult Emporium

Dahlia.

And now, suddenly, Talula’s entire direction in life.

The weight of it seemed to squeeze the air from her lungs.

“What are you doing back here?” Simon peered at her from around the counter.

Still on the ground, Talula groaned. “Processing.”

Simon cocked his fluffy head. “How’s that going?”

Her phone beeped with another notification.

“Not wonderfully,” Talula said, and sighed.

“Any reason in particular?”

Talula weighed the pros and cons of telling Simon about her night. Finally, she decided either he was her friend or not. And now was the time to find out. “Dahlia told me she liked me.”

“A geriatric nematode could have told you that.” Simon rolled his eyes.

“Apparently, I’ve been missing some very obvious signs. Or, too afraid to see them for what they were.” Talula covered her face with her hands. “Then we…”

“You…?”

Talula peeked out from between her fingers. “Kissed.”

Simon opened his mouth to bark, then snapped his jaws closed. He stormed away, muttering to himself. Talula sat up to watch Simon pace back and forth across the café floor. Occasionally, he would tilt his head up to the ceiling fervently, as if beseeching divine intervention.

Finally, Simon stomped over to Talula. “Despite my stalwart principles about prioritizing our magical responsibilities, I find myself…” Simon’s tail gave a subtle stubby wag. “Unduly excited about this development. Tell me everything, right now.”

Talula laughed. “From the beginning?”

Simon sat down, eager despite himself. “From the beginning.”

So she did. By the end of it, Simon sighed and said, “She’s a good one, that Dahlia.”

“She is.” Talula shook her head. “I don’t think I deserve her. Plus, even if we did wind up starting something, how long would I have to keep lying to her about magic stuff? Until we get married? That’s not fair to her. On that note, we all know how I’m doing with that whole Magical Destiny. And am I being fair to my magical responsibilities if I prioritize my own happiness over the needs of my community? And then there’s—”

Simon cut her off. “You know, I’ve seen this behavior many times in heroic types.”

Talula scrunched up her face. “Am I a heroic type?”

“Do you feel overwhelmed by the many hectic goings-on of your human and magical worlds and the things you must do in order to achieve a successful outcome?”

Talula nodded.

“Then I’ll tell you what I’ve told countless others who have battled dragons, disease, and dithering fools.” Simon drew himself up regally. “A sword can only cut one enemy at a time.”

Talula considered this for a moment.

“But what if two enemies were standing really close to each other front to back, and you could just jab them both right through the guts?” Talula demonstrated with an imaginary sword. “Like a kebab?”

Simon wrinkled his furry forehead. “The enemies would have to be very still and you’d need an absurdly sharp sword and a wielder strong enough to punch through two sets of armor, bone, and viscera—” Then he caught the mischievous glint in Talula’s eyes. “You’ve been spending too much time with Dahlia.” Simon huffed, but his heart wasn’t in it. “Listen, you can’t take on the whole army alone and all at once. Letting yourself be overrun by these quandaries won’t get you closer to winning the day, whatever that may mean for you. You have to focus on one small battle at a time and delegate when you can. Now, take a deep breath.”

Talula did.

“Choose one battle.”