I gathered my thoughts and wrote them down on a piece of parchment, which I will soon burn. The words are engraved into my mind, carved so deep that no amount of alcohol or devil's tea will erase them.
I picked the proper clothing: a long velvet coat, silk shirt, linen vest. Of course, shoes and trousers too. I am not going there bare-footed and dangling my junk around.
I have the apothecary's support, and she is certain I will succeed.
All is ready.
But new people are tending to the beehives, new people go in and out of the house.
Where is she? Will she come back?
And, most importantly: is this the right thing to do?
There we go. One page. Beautiful. Good job.
