[Matt Q]

Apocryphal

I was lost in the apothecary. It wasn’t my first apothecary, or the first time I had been lost in one. Adorned in my plague mask, I had taken on the appearance of a prehistoric bird. The pharmacist’s long white cloak flapped from my shoulders, my own name on the name badge. I stumbled across the jar that held filings of a metal that had screamed when it was smelted. I had already pocketed the ampoule of fluid extracted from the hermit. I was making progress! Somewhere, I knew, was the potion for finding one’s way. Somewhere, too, was the elixir that brought rescue. But that was not the game, nor how I wished to play it. Phial or vial? That was the next challenge. I silenced the medals of my previous victories and readied my pipette.