BEING KAREN

The Arrow I slip a hand into my witches bag, and to my surprise, draw out an arrow. What to do with this? I have no bow. I do not hunt. A single arrow could point me in a direction, but would it be the right one? Can I be my own compass? Targets abound. I have no bow. I do not hunt. “Do you shoot?” “Yes. Very well, as it happens:” A woman wiser than most wrote of the arrow, through the voice of her brilliant archer, “one of my vanities, you see. It’s handsome to watch, and s