My Best Friend is a Witch!

Sure, she was not a witch when we were kids. She started looking like one when mid-life caught up with her - she had long uncombed hair, black kohl outlined her almond eyes, and she had a stash of books all about witchcraft. She once inveigled me to join her coven of disciples but I demurred. Not that I was scared or anything, but I just didn’t have the inclination to leave the comfort of my bed to “frolic” under the moonlight.

Once she confessed that she cast spells for the return of her lover, using some ritualistic formulas, but it didn’t work the way she intended. Her erstwhile lover didn’t return to her pining arms, instead he found someone else — a bewitching young miss; my friend is not crying now but has savagely attacked her canvasses to paint her frustrations.

The lure of white magic got her entangled with the craft – after she dabbled with tarot cards. I was her first client. She read the cards with the ease of a master, having memorized all the 22 major and 56 minor arcanas and predicted that I would meet a Chinese guy who would be crazy about me. After quizzing the guys who have shown some romantic interest in me if they had Chinese ancestry, I got negative responses. After 10 years I’ve quit; but I still pester her about the Chinese guy who is taking his time to find me. She is indeed a witch to have kept me waiting for my man from Shanghai.

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