Hannah
I pushed open the door to the apothecary, the little bell above tinkling against the glass as I stepped inside. The familiar scent of dried herbs and crushed botanicals filled my nostrils, somehow both soothing and making my stomach twist with anxiety.
“Good morning,” the elderly man behind the counter greeted me with a warm smile. “What can I do for you today, Miss?”
Clutching the small paper sack containing one of my diet pills, I approached the counter—wearing a surgical mask and some sunglasses to hide my identity.
“I was hoping you could analyze the contents of this for me,” I said, trying to keep my voice level. “There are some… concerns about what might be in it.”
The apothecary’s bushy eyebrows rose, but he didn’t question me further. With a solemn nod,
