"Ahhh," the woman gently smiled, "Alright then. If you wish to have two of these pills, you have to come to my home every day for two months. But we have to promise on it. Are you still sure?"
You stumble a little on your words, but you manage to let out a little, "Yes, ma'am."
"Very well then," the woman replied, "My house is the last one on Elm Street."
There was a silence for a minute or two.
You want to shout out something else to her, and you want your pills, but you can't decide what to do. Eventually, you ask when you can have the pills.
When she explains to you that it will have to be after two months, you groan and hope she will change your mind if you plead. But you still can't help but wonder what she wants you to do.
"Come with me," the woman commanded. "Come child, let me show you my home. My home, my sweet enchanting home."
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