The Apothecary

Val blinked, her brow furrowed in confusion and slight offense. "Um, hello," she replied cautiously, unsure of how to navigate the situation.

The apothecary waved a hand dismissively, her many rings gleaming. "Oh, stop it. Pleasantries are a waste of time at my age. Have a seat, child."

Val hesitated for a moment before sitting across from the elderly woman, whose deep-set, wise eyes were framed by wrinkles earned from countless years of experience.

"There's nothing to be cautious of," the apothecary's voice was raspy but gentle. "I'm too old to cause any fuss. Let's see what brings you in."

As the apothecary took Val's hands, the cool, smooth texture of numerous rings pressed against her skin.

The sudden gesture took Val off guard. As the apothecary's lips moved in silent incantation, Val watched, perplexed.

"Um, what are you doing?" Val asked, her voice a mix of curiosity and unease.

The old woman, deeply concentrated, simply responded with a shush, gripping Val's hands tighter. "Shhh. I'm trying to see. Very, very interesting," she murmured, lost in a trance.

Moments later, the apothecary released her grip. Val quickly withdrew her hands, feeling a mix of relief and anticipation. "I-I- Interesting? What's interesting?" Val probed, eager for an explanation.

Surrounded by the dim shop's shadows, the apothecary leaned back, making her chair creak. Her fingers steepled, eyes filled with a mix of sympathy and scrutiny. "You, my dear," she began, her voice tinged with melancholy, "have such big, beautiful wings, yet you refuse to fly."

Val's confusion deepened. "Wings? I'm not sure what you're talking about," she responded, trying to grasp the cryptic statement.

The elderly woman's gaze intensified, becoming stern. "I'm sure you do," she said, almost accusingly. The faint shop light lent her eyes an ethereal glow. "You choose to make yourself smaller, to hide in your comfort, but it's slowly eating away at you."

Val shifted, the weight of the apothecary's words pressing down on her. "Look," she began, more defensively, "I just came here for the lotion. The one you sold..."

The apothecary cut her off, her tone grave. "I know what you came here for," she locked eyes with Val, "but you do not need it."

Val paled, emotions swirling in her eyes. Speechless, her heart rate quickened.

With a softened gaze, the apothecary leaned forward. "You will face a tough decision," she said gently, "a decision that will determine the life of the baby bird in your stomach."

Val's shock was palpable. She cradled her stomach protectively, disbelief in her eyes. "Wait! You mean...?"

The apothecary nodded, her ancient gaze affirming Val's suspicion. The intensity of her stare seemed to expose Val's soul.

Instinctively, Val embraced the apothecary, who, surprised, reciprocated. Her aged arms encircled Val with unexpected strength.

In the dim room, amidst shelves of curious remedies, they shared a tender moment, the outside world's noise fading into a soft, shared silence.

Drawing back, the apothecary, her expression empathetic, whispered, "Child, I do not envy your path. Trust in your wings."

Val, tears in her eyes, struggled with confusion. "I don't understand about the wings... but thank you."

The apothecary smiled, caressing a bird-shaped pendant at her neck, which shimmered softly. "In time," she murmured, eyes twinkling, "you will."