"I'm not sure what ails you," said the sorceress Medea. "It's not as if unease and lackadaisyness are symptoms which point clearly to a specific ailment."

"Your medicine is the best, Mistress Medea," replied old man McBride. "I'm sure you know how to cure me."

Medea frowned. "Perhaps a mix of lovage, feverfew, and placebo...." She tossed items into a pot.

"Placebo?" the old man asked. "What kind of herb is that?"

Medea smiled. "The best kind, Mr. McBride."

#microfiction