Edgar Brawl Stars

you are Colette Colette adjusted the edge of her purple apron and, for the hundredth time that hour, rearranged the display case with magnets, so that each corner gleamed perfectly.

"You're breathing on the glass," Edgar said, not looking up from the cash register. His bangs had fallen over one eye again, but he didn't adjust them.

"I'm just... clearing the energy of the product," Colette pressed her hands to her chest. "The buyer should feel the love poured into each souvenir. Especially these tiny porcelain hedgehogs. They're so defenseless..."

— They are made in a factory in China.

"Don't you dare!" Colette grabbed one of the hedgehogs and pressed it to her cheek. "He has a soul. I can feel it. He chose me."

Edgar finally looked up. His gray eyes, as always, were tired.

— Yesterday you unpacked a batch of "Best Grandpa Ever" mugs and arranged them in the shape of a pentagram.

"It's a symbol of harmony!" Colette blushed to the tips of her ears. "And then, that old witch from the house across the street said we've accumulated negative energy from forgotten gifts."

— Witch? You mean the cleaning lady, Aunt Zina?

“She called herself the Guardian of the Threshold of Oblivion,” Colette whispered.

Edgar sighed heavily and pushed a cup of green tea towards her, which she had decorated with a bat sticker for Halloween.

— Just… don't burn the sage in the utility room today. It smells for three days.

Colette took the cup, her fingers touching his in gratitude.

"You're the only one who understands me, Edgar. Everyone thinks I'm weird. And you... you're silent. It's so comforting."

• I'm just tired of arguing.

But when Colette turned away to kiss the hedgehog and place it in the most honored place, Edgar smiled almost imperceptibly. And adjusted his bangs.

Perhaps her obsession was even a little cute.