The smoke wafted through the small room.
“This will chase away bad energies in your apartment, Grandma.”
Quesha waited for the embers to smolder and set the Palo Santo on a small coaster.
Grandma sipped her beer, cackling. “Ain’t no such thing as magic wood.”
“I’ll check back,” Quesha told her.
“At least it smells good,” Grandma said.
Quesha called in a week.…
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