The one gift Ana always gave herself on her birthday was a completely free day. She could be as lazy as she chose, or as industrious. She could get up at dawn and gorge on ice cream for breakfast, or she could laze in bed until noon watching old movies on television.
The single best plan for the one day of the year that belonged only to her was no plan at all.
"St. Patricks Day mini cupcakes" by Kristin Ausk -
originally posted to Flickr as St. Patricks Day mini cupcakes.
Licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0 via Wikimedia Commons.
"How did you know it was my birthday?"
"Nash told me. Aren't you going to open it?"
"I certainly am." She tore the paper, revealing a box with the logo of Morgana's shop imprinted on the lid. "Excellent choice," she said. "You couldn't possibly go wrong buying me something from Wicca." She lifted the lid and, with a quiet sigh, drew out a delicate statue of a sorceress carved in amber.
Her head was thrown back and exquisite tendrils of the dark gold hair tumbled down her cloak. Slender arms were raised, bent at the elbows, palms cupped and facing-mirroring the age-old position Ana had assumed over the chest that morning. In one elegant hand she held a small gleaming pearl, in the other a slender silver wand.
"She's beautiful," Ana murmured. "Absolutely beautiful."
"I stopped by the shop last week, and Morgana had just gotten it in. It reminded me of you."
"Thank you." Still holding the statue, she lifted her free hand to his cheek. "You couldn't have found anything more perfect."