Each Halloween, Clara and all her girlfriends met up to do some annual target-setting and review the previous year’s ambitions. The targets could be small things, like redecorating, but were more usually big things like getting qualified in something or having a child or finding a meaningful relationship. The Coven’s Convention, they called it, just for a laugh.
And it was really funny for a few years. Funnier, in truth, Clara reflected as she peeled the label off her bottle of beer and watched two of her friends doing karaoke, when there was still the small chance things could work out okay for them all.