I arrived home early today. I wanted to sit on the bus for hours, but I had to get up and walk through to Watershed Heights. A man was running around screaming about the world is flat. This is why I try not to associate with my fellow residents. They're all 146% crazy.
The reason that I got home early was that I was fired from my job at Target today. I took my staff and robe to work. I explained to my boss that I am a wizard and this is what wizards wear. Just like a police officer wears a uniform and a doctor wears scrubs, wizards like me wear robes, necklaces, and carry their staff with them at all times. My boss told me that it was scaring customers and I would have to wear a red polo and khakis or leave. So I left.
I think that I know what my boss's problem is. He obviously doesn't know that magic is alive and well. Most people don't. Other than my parents, I've never met any other magicians. I can still remember when I learned about magic. I was in the car with my parents going to school. I asked my dad how the car worked. He chuckled and told me that he and my mother controlled the car with their magic. My mom turned around in her seat and told me that I could be magical just like them if I worked hard enough. This was the last thing that they said to me. On their way back home my parents died in a head on collision.
I took their last words very seriously. My adopted parents laughed at me and said that my parents had been pulling my leg. I persisted with my studies in the fields of potions, spell casting, and hexes. My new parents eventually forbid the words "magic" and "wizard" and any mention of the art. They took me to therapists and mental hospitals; but I just would not quit. I knew that I was special. I knew that I could master the art of magic with enough practice. After living with my adopted parents for seven years, I ran away and I have been living in apartment 5B at Watershed Heights for the past 13 years.