Ten
Zaan Pulfer
The glass that I’ve been trying to painstakingly fill with oils has broken. It’s the third one that I’ve dropped. From the stock room, Olivia Pulfer, my mother, made a noise. “Zaan!” she called out. “Did you break another bottle?”
I grimaced, and I hit the shop counter with my hand. I shouldn’t have been having so much trouble. Normally, I could fill bottles without a problem. But since Crimson had been taken yesterday, I wasn’t able to concentrate.
My mother came out from the storeroom. She was a tall, thin woman with a round face, and jet-black hair. She smiled at me. “I could hear you scowling from the storeroom. Whatever is the matter, son?”
I took a breath. “Crimson.”
Her eyes softened. “Ah. The As
