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The Antiquarian January 20, 2022

Welcome Home, Country Girl

As we crossed from one street to another, a wave of sensations hit me at a million miles an hour. Feelings and emotions screamed in my head. Memories and heartbreaks filled my soul. Everything I’d ever seen and felt and thought crammed into my brain all at once. It was almost too much to handle.

Arriving

Herbie stood behind the bar, dressed in a weird mixture of denim and plaid. His man bun proved secure. Not a hair stirred as he whipped his head around when my scent finally hit his senses. Apparently, years and miles still hadn’t changed my base.

Sitting back in my chair, I look at my tattoo, worry churning in my gut. The black dragon that wraps around my right arm is starting to fade from the lack of magic in my body. Just before I transform, the tattoo glows red, but at this point, I am not sure I could even make the shift. I rub my arm, squeezing my eyes shut as my head pounds. I’m tired—no, exhausted. My muscles and my mind are aching for a reboot. I can’t remember the last time I’d properly slept.