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“I always have sucked at grabbing opportunities.” Cordelia tapped a pencil rapidly on her desktop. “I mean, look at my career! I’m supposed to be a famous actress, not a bad secretary.”
Angel stared at Cordelia for a minute, then replied, “Not that bad.”
“Cute. Mock me in my self-pity! God, Angel, why didn’t you become a therapist?”
“I’m sensing sarcasm.”
With a groan, Cordelia eased herself out of the worn office chair and grabbed her coat. “Lunch break.”
“It’s only been fifteen minutes since your last lunch break,” Angel pointed out, his tone neither harsh nor accusatory.
“Dinner then.”
“Cordelia?”
She stopped dead in her tracks and turned her head. “Yeah?”
“I miss him too.”
After managing little more than a weak smile, Cordelia fled the office.
As Cordelia made her way down the street form Angel’s office, she fought a losing battle with tears of frustration and regret. There are so many things I should have done! And not done. To start with, I should never have dated Xander. I wouldn’t be here if I had just avoided him in the first place. If I hadn’t gotten all emotionally scarred by that pig, I wouldn’t . . . what? Wouldn’t have come to L.A.? Wouldn’t have met Doyle? Wouldn’t have . . . “Ugh!”
“You carry a lot of anger for someone so young and pretty,” a voice colored by a faint, unidentifiable accent observed from with a dark shop.
Fortunes, Potions and Palm Reading proclaimed the sign above Cordelia. “Uh, whatever.” Am I a freak magnet or what? She prepared to hurry past, but the woman called to her again.
“Come, child! You must not fear me. Eccentric I may be, but not dangerous.”
“Thank you, Master Yoda,” Cordelia muttered to herself.
The woman took Cordelia’s arm and drew her inside the shop. Her ancient face crinkled
with smile lines and her gray hair fell loose to her waist. “I am Ozilline. I am not selling
anything, not for you. For you, a gift.” Liquid blue eyes sparkled as the woman drew a
vial from her oversized shirt pocket.
“Glitter?” Inside the vial shone what appeared to be white glitter.
“No, child!” Ozilline laughed, already leading Cordelia out of the shop. “This potion will
grant your fondest wish. Go no. You have until midnight to decide.”
Cordelia found herself outside the shop once more. When she turned to demand a better
explanation, she saw a boarded-up, rotted door and broken windows instead of the
mysteriously welcoming shop. “Oh-kay, then. Didn’t happen. I’ve lost it. Completely-”
She felt the cool vial clutched in her hand and stopped. “This has been a Hell of a day.”
When Cordelia finally retired to bed that night, she set the vial on her bedside table. “So,
you’re gonna grant me a wish, huh? Whatever I want most?” She considered the
possibilities, envisioning a huge mansion with servants and a valet and an Olympic
swimming pool. She pictured a successful actin career with paparazzi and a gorgeous
movie star boyfriend.
The lamp on her bedside table clicked off. “Night, Dennis.” Cordelia sighed, a fine mist
of tears suddenly blurring her vision. No, I don’t want the money. Not most, anyway.
She closed her eyes with an exhausted sigh and fell back onto the bed. I want Doyle
back.
Unseen by the sleeping Cordelia, the vial’s contents began to glow faintly, then turned into
a blue mist and vanished.