It was one of her most favorite teacups. A loner, something she’d found in one of those second hand shops. It’s pretty little blue flowers and its gold trim had just called to her. The yellowing at the cracks in the glaze told her it was old, or at least that was what she thought it meant. She’d need to do more research on glazes and things.

For now, she’d just polish it. Dusting it, really. She didn’t have company over enough for her collection to actually be dirty, but they certainly were dusty. Everything was dusty.

But she liked dusting. It made her happy. She would usually flit around the room with a little feather duster just dusting up a storm. Usually she’d find herself humming happy little tunes, usually that she’d made up. Or maybe she’d heard them before? She really didn’t know, they just came to her and she went where the song wanted to go.

Dusting was nearly as relaxing as polishing her teacups. That was relaxing. Also usually accompanied by a tune. The teacups were her most favorite things, she didn’t know why but she just adored them. Picking each one up, looking at it gleam in the light… it was Marcy’s version of happiness. She’d hug the teacups if she could, but that was difficult. She’d learned that.

It made her feel all grown up, to be cleaning things. She didn’t know why it did, but it did and she liked it. Maybe she should learn to cook? She knew how to make tea, but that was easy. Baking… if she could back the cake to go with her tea…wouldn’t that be wonderful? Sweet cakes, spice cakes, savory cakes, slime cakes…. She could bake them all for her guests. She could even sell them. Wouldn’t that be lovely? Making little desserts and selling them? Selling them with tea? Little tea and cake sets! What could be more delightful than that?

Marcy stopped her polishing and set the teacup down on the table, leaving the little cloth she used to wipe them down hanging half inside it. Her fingers tapped the table, mind working out a thought. A brilliant thought.

She could open a little café of and sell tea and homemade cakes. Her own cake sets. Of her own design and making, to share with everyone.

Her eyes got wide, a smile grew, and a moment later the ghoul was floating about her room, dancing a happy dance, but in a more swirly ballerina style than anything. She was a very floaty kind of girl.

She liked cake. And pie. Mostly tea, but baked goods went so very well with tea. She’d always kind of wanted to learn to make them… but this. This was a goal she could reach for. Something she could do, she knew, if she put her mind to it.

Marcy stopped in front of the desk. Her room didn’t have much in it. A table with a setting for two, a bed, a desk with its own chair, and a low bench built in along one wall she’d tossed a few pillows on. She needed to get herself some bookshelves.

But that was later. Right now she needed the desk.

Grabbing a piece of paper and a quill pen, Marcy began to make some notes.

Step 1: Learn to bake
Cooking classes?

Step 2: Earn money
Selling baked goods?

Step 3: Open café
Make and sell delicious things!

Step 4: Live happily ever after
: D

Yes. That was it. That was all she needed to do. It made perfect sense to her, and it was just THAT easy. For the rest of her existence she’d be happy, selling tea and cakes to customers, sharing her favorite things with the world and making everyone happy. She could even host tea parties in her café. Themed tea parties and causal tea parties. Tea parties for tea tasting, or cake tasting, or even for book clubs. She could do anything. Anything at all.

Marcy drew some hearts and stars and pumpkins and bats on the paper, decorating it. She even used her different colored preyons. (She’d bought a set after seeing Mia’s masterpiece. Not nearly as many colors as the school had, but a few.) After it was sufficiently pretty, Marcy took some of this magical sticky paper and attached the Life Goal List (She paused to write this on the top) to the wall. Right over her bed, so she could look at it every night as she crawled in to sleep.

”Perfect!”

It really was.

Feeling very accomplished, she picked up the feather duster and began to drift around the room, dusting this and that, dreaming of what she’d do with her café. Where would she put it? What would she call it? What would she sell? There was clearly a whole lot of planning to do. Would she be ready by the time it was time to open the shop? She certainly hoped so.