The little potion shop is under a whirlwind of chaos. Shelves that had once been lined with carefully labeled potions were now nearly bare, and the air was thick with the frantic energy of worried parents and caregivers.
"Garret, we're out of picaro root!" I called over the din, my voice strained with exhaustion. And the customers' noise doesn't help at all.
"I'm sorry ma'am but we are out of picaro root. But you can write down your address and you'll be first to be served once we have gathered enough ingredients."
"But I need the potion right now! Or else, my child will be in danger."
"Yes, but just like all the other kids. The hospital just ordered boxes of healing potions, that may help for now."
As soon as they heard about it, most of the customers exited our shop, while the others that were left were not so urgent.
