#Chapter38
/"Do I look alright, Sofia?/" The rush of air she made as Imara rushed through the kitchen, straightening her skirt, blew the little orange curly hairs off Sofia’s neck. /"Ugh! I look like a little girl./"
Round, freckled cheeks turned from the sink and leaned back to check Imara over. /"You’d look alright in a potato sack. Besides, he’ll be here to work, not to stare at you all day long. And, trust me, no man alive would ever mistake you for a little girl./"
A pink tongue licked the witch’s palm, then pulled at the stray curl that she could never smooth down as she caught her reflection in the window. /"I’m so nervous; my hands are shaking like a leaf. Here, feel them./"
After she wiped her hands on her apron, Sofia felt her cold fingertips. /"Bless your heart; they’re freezing./"
/"I can’t help it./" The back of Imara’s shaking hand pressed against her forehead. /"Maybe I’m fevered./"
