Gemotions

The stained-glass window of the cathedral cast a kaleidoscope of colours across my grandmother's face. She was, to everyone's surprise, embracing Wicca. A tiny, nearly silent snort escaped my lips.

Her tiny frame, now adorned with a silver pentacle, beamed at me. "I'm going to start a coven!" she declared, her eyes sparkling. I bit the inside of my cheek, willing myself not to burst out laughing.

"And you'll be teaching us spells?" I asked, a grin threatening to take over my whole face. The thought of Grandma brewing potions was… well, simply delightful. My toes were practically tingling with anticipation.