I smile as I walk to my front porch with my tea and scone. Ten in the morning, and right on time my neighbor across the dirt road emerges from his house to tend his garden. We are the only two who live in this forest outside of town, and I love listening to him as he hums while trimming and watering the plants.

From the outside, we are opposites. He wears button-ups and sweaters that remind me of Mr. Rodgers. His smile is like a beacon promising trust and understanding no matter what you have done or what you need. He is soft and warm and welcoming in a way I did not know was possible for a human being to be.

I, on the other hand, only wear black. I'm cold to anyone who doesn't know me, and my smile's kindred spirit can be found on Wednesday Addams' face. My whole life I have been accused of every possible malfeasance. Where he is warm, I am cold; where he is welcoming, I am frightening. On the outside, we are exact opposites.

I daintily lift my china teacup to my lips and take the tiniest sip. A perfect brew. I sigh and smile as he starts talking to the bees fertilizing his strawberries, before replacing my tea on its saucer. The day is perfect, though I could use less sun. I open my book and start slowly nibbling through my scone.

He lingers in the garden, looking for excuses to stay in my line of sight, and beaming every time he catches me peaking over the top of my reading. I pretend not to smile, to be annoyed at his distractions. He knows me well enough to not be offended. We do this dance every day, where tending his garden is more a play for one than actual gardening. Still, he somehow manages to keep his garden in perfect health.

Normally, I would be more focused on my work, but the day is absolutely exquisite, and I find my mind wandering from the equations I'm supposed to be working on. Inattentive science can lead to breakthroughs, but inattentive chemistry usually leads to explosions. I try to refocus by pulling out a notebook and jotting down summaries of the first principles my dissertation is based on. A mind map is a great way to get unstuck. Meanwhile, my neighbor has moved on to singing songs back and forth with the local mockingbird.

Both of us are so absorbed in our work that we miss the unmistakable crunch of footsteps on the dirt road. "Hello," a timid voice starts from the other side of my front yard fence, "are you the witch? I… um… I need help with a spell." The young woman shifts nervously, hugging a binder to her chest which likely contains the map to our location. She looks at me hopefully, likely having gotten turned around in the forest multiple times.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

I smirk at her, and take a sip of my tea, intentionally raising the suspense. "No," I smirk, enjoying the way her smile falls. Everyone makes this mistake, I've stopped being mad about it and now have fun with it, "he is." I nod toward my neighbor, who is still singing with the birds.

She glances back and forth between us a few times, bewildered. "Really?"

"Really. I'm a scientist. If you want magic, he's your guy."

She looks at me like I'm crazy, or messing with her, and crosses the dirt road to his fence. "Excuse me? Are you the… witch?" She sounds uncertain. They always do.

He stops singing, turns to her, and beams like he genuinely enjoys her being here. If this were an anime, he would be sparkling. "I am!" He crosses the garden to the gate and ushers her inside, "Mariam, right? I've been waiting for you. I have everything I need for your spell right here," he gestures to the basket full of herbs next to the door. She looks surprised, but I'm used to his precognitive abilities. They will be in his house for at least an hour. Without his singing, I might actually make progress on my dissertation today. Then again, a walk sounds much better than work today.

In the end, I spend my day walking around the forest. I arrive home just in time to see my neighbor setting his porch table for two and turn toward his gate. He pulls out my chair like the charmer he is, then serves us food made from our gardens. "So, fertility?" I ask, referring to his earlier patient.

"Indeed. They have a boy, and they want the next one to be a girl."

"Idiotic. Let the kid be whatever they are."

"I agree, but magic and fate are intertwined. That I knew she would come means fate needs her to take that potion. I don't question, to question could cause me to lose my magic. I won't risk it," he smiles, already knowing my response. We have this conversation too often.

"Seems like a bunch of placebo BS to me."

"Are you staying tonight?" He asks. He always asks, never assumes. I love that about him.

"We spent last night at my house, we can spend tonight at yours."

"Have you ever considered moving in together?" He says it in a way that might be a joke like he is musing over an impossibility.

I hum, "No. We have done this for years, and I think it works for us. We both need our own spaces to work. Do you want to move in together?"

"No," I look closely to see if he is lying. He is good at concealing pain and offense, but over the years I've learned to see past that mask. He isn't lying. "I'm happy with our arrangement."

We talk about our days and finish eating dinner. As we are eating at his house, I clean the dishes and he dries and puts them away. We talk until we are too tired to continue and then move to his bedroom to sleep. Tomorrow I have an early morning, but I have half of my clothes here. By ten in the morning, I'll be ready for my break… with a musical show.