Visionary

I was a nobody who worked for nobodies.

At least my shoes were new.

Who was I hiding from?

I was hiding from just about everybody. Myself. The Church. The government. The people.

Prohibition.

Wizards were illegal now, just like gin.

All I had to do was work the night shift and keep my head down.

Then those guys walked in. The pair. You know the kind. That one guy who likes to talk and the other guy who dresses well. They were sticky, like tar.

And then those terrible words.

"You're a pretty classy guy. You should meet my sister."