Status Updates From Le streghe di Eastwick

The crowd inside Nemo’s became as winter wore on so well known to one another and the waitresses that even ritual remarks about the weather and the war dried up, and Rebecca filled their orders without asking, knowing what they wanted.

I feel so safe. Should I?
Why not? one of the witches asked.
Feel safe while you can, another advised.

Though she did feel wifely stirrings, still, viewing such men in their dailiness — that stoop their shoulders have when they got up from a chair, the shamefaced awkward way they step in and out of their trousers, how docilely they scrape their whiskers off their faces every day and go out in the world looking for money.