I was standing in the center of everything and I hadn't known any of it was going on. And when he stared at me with a clear sign of worry in his ocean grey blue eyes, I knew it was just the beginning of it all.

The smell of sweetness rushed over me when I passed the bakery on second street. I walked in and was greeted by a friendly old lady who looked at me as if I were a lonely mermaid who swam to shore to be with a human family from the stories mother used to tell me when I was little. Mother once told me I was a beautiful rose that had many thorns and was too fragile to hold but too stubborn to want to be held. She told me someday I will take my thorns off and someone will hold me and love me as she does. I have yet a journey to figure that one out. "Welcome to Bibury. What can I get for yeh?" The lady said as she walked over to a near corner to ring a small kitchen bell. I wanted to get everything! There were scones with blackberry jam and croissants filled with cream cheese. "Surprise me." I said wanting whatever she liked best. The old lady walked over again to the bell and rung it and shouted around the corner, "One special for the lady!" I sat at a table admiring the beautiful tile path I had followed here. I wondered how long it took them to place every tile in a unique spot so that it looked artistic and creative. I was staring so intensely at the tile that I almost didn't realize my sweet was on the table. "I've got yeh a cherry tart with sugar powder! That boy must've liked how red yeh hair was." I could see that there was a note left on the side of the plate next to the tart that read, "your hair is like crimson and ember that glow when you smile." I smiled as I read it, wanting to read it over and over. The lady glanced back as she went around the corner with a small look of disgust. I've always been told my hair was very red. People have looked at me in shock, some have even asked if it was real. But few thought of it as something to be afraid of. I finished up my delicious tart and walked towards the counter to see the boy the old lady said liked my hair. I snuck a peek around the corner and didn't see a single boy, only two old ladies whispering to each other. It was hard to hear but I could make out some of what they were saying. "Do you think she really is?" Said one one old lady. "Her hair only tells the truth. She will put our whole town in danger!" I couldn't understand anything else but that's itself was enough for me to understand I wasn't wanted there. I had always thought of witches to be old and green with black and sliver hair and a big nose with moles but that's not for everyone. For example, a red haired stranger isn't something you see everyday when you're an old lady and you live in one town where everyone knows each other. I've never thought of myself as being a witch, so why should they? I was slowly walking with my arms full of books and my head full of thoughts when I looked up to see a very tall golden blonde haired boy with eyes so deep in the color blue that you could fall in them. Was he the boy who wrote the note? If so, why was he on the ground talking to a bush?