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Beatrice let out a long, deep sigh. She rolled her shoulders, blinking her eyes a few times. Okay, okay. We can do this. Just like last time.

The stubborn witch took another purposeful breath, released it through her nose. She had just arrived at the next house, the new pizza box in one of her palms. She reached with the free hand and brought it down on the wooden door. KNOCK-KNOCK.

CRACK! BROOOSH!
Beatrice's face turned beet red, her head jerking down so hard it almost gave her whiplash. Her poor, elegant black heels had fallen prey to the changes now. They were nothing but shattered remains around her newly enlarged, hand-like-looking feet. They were dark as her hands were, having a furry, cuff-esque layer over her ankles.

Crap! I liked those shoes! Beatrice gritted her teeth. Why must they suffer?! They were innocent in all of this!

She kicked the remains of the heels away, already plotting how she would get Cassidy to buy her new shoes. Not make her new ones. That would be too simple to conjure up. She needed to feel the pain in her wallet.

Her long toes scrunched up, rubbing against the welcome matt. The scratchiness of the material felt odd on her bare feet, but the coldness of the stone path it laid on felt even more unpleasant. It was so grainy and ridged. It didn't hurt thankfully, but the witch was not a fan.

Really need shoes. I'm not going to stand for- "HEY!” She saw her left hand moving for her belly again. She yanked it back and gave it a good shake.

Stop trying to do that! You're my hand, so obey me! Her hand had been constantly trying to scratch her since the drive over. She had to keep pulling on it like a disobedient dog on a leash.

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