TRUE MATE REJECTED
I can’t imagine a worse fate than giving up and having a brood of kids with some other woman, only to then find my True Mate.
When I arrive at the witch’s treehouse, a giant gator crawls from beneath her tree and waddles toward the water, where it slips silently into the murky, liquid embrace of the swamp. More gators make their presence known by the bulge of their eyes lining the surface of the water. Spanish moss drapes listlessly from the trees as if exhausted from the incessant heat, and vultures line each branch, watching as if hoping I’ll turn into their next meal.
I hop down from the truck and stride toward the bell dangling from a tree branch, swatting mosquitos as I go. Grabbing the