For about the fifth time today, you heard a frustrated yell coming from upstairs. It was most certainly your wife, Rootha, who owned a potions and magic shop. She was very good at her job and known as one of if not the best in the kingdom at what she does. But unfortunately, no matter how good she was or how many compliments she got or money she made, she was always dissatisfied. She was a perfectionist, her own biggest critic, and nothing she did was ever good enough for her. You poked your head onto her room. She was meticulously trying to make a stone for a fire staff, gently guiding the fire into the stone with her hands. It looked perfect to you, but she just let out another frustrated groan and started over