“Well, it’s my mother,” Marty said, scratching idly at the mosquito bites on his forearm.

Marty hadn’t been sure what he expected from Spellcaster Supreme Brian Kettlepot, Class 4. Sure when he was younger Martin had gone to the greenwitches for cure-alls and get smart charms before finals but he wasn’t one for big magic. Martin had assumed there would be velvet drapes and crystals with bundles of dried things hanging from the ceiling. Instead 1313 Tabitha Lane was an old storefront retrofitted as a pretty generic clinic. Slightly disappointed, Martin took in the sensible carpet and white tiled walls. There weren’t even candles burning.

“Candle smoke gives me headaches. Now what is the problem with your mother?” Kettlepot said.

Waving his ringed hand over his teacup, the spellcaster watched as the soft steam circles rose from the cup. Marty saw the steam loops morph into intertwining shapes. He leaned closer as magic pulsated across the IKEA desk. Brian sipped his oolong tea.

“She is isn’t a problem per se,” Marty stammered. “It is just we wanted different things for my future.”

“The tea leaves say your mother, one Lizabeth Arron, telekinetic charmer level two wants world peace, the perfect chocolate croissant, her children to be happy, and maybe some grandchildren. Pretty standard mom stuff, really,” Brian said. “Why do you need witchcraft? Is she making you wear itchy handmade sweaters because I’m only a level 4 power here?”

“No, my mom is great but she wants me to date. She keeps hiding love charms in my pockets and spraying estrus spells on every nearby available female. Tobias, my friend, said you were great and helped him with his daughter tried to set him up on Hinge. So I thought you could help me.”

Squirming in the office chair, Marty looked up for help. Brian snapped his fingers and the tea cups were replaced with frosty bottles of beer. The spellcaster stared at Marty and took a hearty swig. Marty drank his beer. He’d been communing with nature in a smallish pup tent for the last three weeks . Marty leaned into the wingback leather chair. Cold droplets ran down his fingertips. It felt nice reminding him of his college days.

“Look pal rent ain’t cheap. But I don’t want to take your money for nothing. It sounds like your mom just wants you to be happy, meet a nice sorceress, and have a cozy coven of your own. You are evenly matched magicwise so she cannot really bent you to her will unless your desire it. Tell her to back off and you want to move at your own pace. It’s not like your shutting yourself up in a cave,” Brian said.

Marty choked on his beer. Brian raised an eyebrow.

“Actually I’m joining the Wood Sprites, I’ll be living alone in the woods to studying the great mediative works of the anciet Dryads. No modern conveniences, just me and the land and the magical tomes. I’m just wanting for a tree crotch to become available. I’m looking forward living alone with only the sun to guide and a good book to explore. I just don’t want my mom to be heartbroken? Marty said.

“Well!” Brian said.

With a finger snap, Brian switched the beers for neat whiskeys in highballs. Marty sniffed at the glasses. They both took smoky sips of the Scotch. Brian got up and his dark cloak transformed into a pair of sweatpants and a bright coral tee. He rummaged in the shelves in the back. The liquor warmed Marty’s insides and made him miss the cozy at his favorite tavern from grad school. Marty remembered losing at darts and arguing spellcraft over predesignation with Tempest, the publican. Brian came back and set a small green bottle on the desk in front of Marty.

“Listen, Nature Boy, You just have to be fine. You have the right to live anyway you deserve whether up a dark tree or frisbee golf at Stronehenge. I know most Woodies are older but if you want to dedicate yourself to academic creepy guy alone in the woods It don’t matter. If you are content in your choic; if you are running into something you want versus hiding from the world your mom will come around or not. Whatevs. Regardless you decide.”

They set in silence over their drinks.

“What’s in the bottle?"

“Mosquito repellant, works like a charm.”