When she entered the dusty old general store, the man behind the counter welcomed her and asked what she was seeking.
“I want to buy a mirror,” she said. He placed three hand mirrors on the counter.
“These mirrors each show something different: Lost loves, your hearts desire, or the future. But each has a terrible cost.”
“Bob, I just need a regular, non-enchanted mirror. Do you have one?”
He looked embarrassed. “Ah, not really, no.”
She sighed. Now she’d have to drive the hundred miles to the big-box store. Someday she’d get out of this dying New England town.

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