When she walked into the shop I was enthralled, as I looked over her I noticed no sign of commitment. As she gently walked up to the counter I smiled "now what is someone like you doing 'round here?" She looked down a the floor "this is all I can afford, in this day and age" I felt a wash a of sympathy, it may be an economic crisis, but I'm well off enough to help right? "How about this, you, me lunch tomorrow, in the plaza?" She looked up and smiled "really? thank you" she payed and walked out. As I thought of what was to come I felt star struck like she had placed a spell on me.
The next day I met up with her and it was extraordinary. Soon we met up often, and I slowly fell for her. She was humble and sweet at least she was to me until, eventually I signed myself over to her and everything I had, oh, how stupid I was one day I collapsed into a bowl of soup, witch she made fresh for me with a lace of arsenic.
I wasn't her first victim and I most certainly was not her last, I have followed her for centuries, this lady never dies. Here I float, a ghost, hoping you never fall victim to madame mademoiselle, as so meny male and female have. She is a stricter who goes by meny names, and changes with the era, she does not age, for she is a witch full of splendor and skill, witch she hones for the kill.
