Peach’s Broom Shopping Disaster

Peach wandered into Halloweentown’s cramped little magic shop looking for “the biggest, thickest broom they had” — something she could ride properly. The owner, a flustered middle-aged warlock, kept stammering that the decorative ones by the barrel were only for display. Peach ignored him. She spent ten minutes slowly running her fingers up and down the longest broom handle, testing the thickness between both hands, occasionally glancing over her shoulder with that soft, guilty little smile.

By the time she finally picked one, her shorts were riding so high they were basically useless and her top had slipped almost completely off one breast. She paid with a wink and a promise to “come back later for a longer fitting,” then stepped outside into the autumn street, the broom resting between her legs as she straddled it and gave an experimental little bounce. The warlock watched from the doorway, speechless, while Peach bit her lip and decided the broom was almost — but not quite — the right size. She was going to need a few more test rides before she was satisfied.