“She’s just a nice old lady,” I said. “Nothing more.”

I sat back in my chair at the coffee shop and wrapped my chilled hands around the cup holding my mocha latte.

Sylvia shook her head. “If she ain’t a witch, what’s with the lights on so late at night?”

“She must have insomnia.”

“My neighbor had a run-in with her at the dollar store. Next thing she knows her flower garden dies.”

“She’s cursing people?”

“And then there’s that weird thing that happened at the post office! The tainted sourdough! It all adds up!”

I put down my cup and got up to leave. “You need a rest,” I said, squeezing her arm as I passed by.

Not gonna lie, I sat in my car for a few moments, thinking. Maybe something really was going on. And then I saw her standing right at my car window, peering in. My heart flipped as I rolled down the window. This nice old lady didn’t seem so nice now.