The doors slid open to the studio apartment, the soft glow of a few remaining embers dancing across the walls from the fireplace. It had been six months since she’d moved in and traces of her were everywhere. The once empty modern space was now clearly lived in, every inch cluttered with the essence of her. Books cluttered the coffee table, some opened with notes dashed in the margins while others towered precariously high, likely to topple over onto the orange feline who was undoubtedly lurking somewhere in the shadows. A basket propped in the corner of the couch piled with various colors of yarn and knitting needles carelessly abandoned on the sofa. He remembered a time when sitting on his couch hadn’t been a safety hazard, but if he happened to impale himself on the stupid things, the most beautiful witch in the world would indeed swoop in to save the day and the trade seemed more than worth it.   