Why hasn't anyone invented a spell to magic away paperwork?

  Ginger's head fell onto the wooden receptionist’s desk with a soft thunk. Her shoulders visibly heaved as she let out a long breath. The daily goings-on of the daycare were enough to keep her darting about like an overcaffeinated pixie. But between the litany of minor renovations the building needed and summer's influx of students, not to mention all the events coming up? It was simply too much. Even worse, the upcoming inspections meant she found herself in the unenviable position of double-checking each class’s daily paperwork. All of it. For the past six months. It was getting ridiculous.

  Busy, busy, busy. Always so very busy.

  With a long sigh, she tossed the paper into the air. It fluttered upward for a moment before floating over to the open filing cabinet, tucking itself neatly into its proper folder. Ginger didn’t even spare it a glance, already scanning the next sheet on the pile. Tallies of what child arrived when, what teacher went where, and who ate what threatened to blur together into a single smudge of meaningless ink before her eyes.

  The tinkling chime of the doorbell brought her out of her daze. With a peer through the glass and a wave of her wand, she unlocked the front door. A woman dressed in immaculate business attire stepped through, a child-sized backpack slung over one shoulder. Holding her hand was a young boy—fourteen months old, to be exact—with his mother’s eyes and ruffled blonde hair.

  Ginger’s frown of worry immediately melted into a warm grin at the sight. “Good morning, Mrs. Conrad! And good morning, Craig!”

  “Good morning, Ginger,” the woman gently shook her son's hand. “Say hi, Craig!”

  The boy waddled forward, his eyes roving about the room in that slightly-vacant manner that toddlers had about them. At his mother’s prompting, he stared at Ginger and reached out with a plump arm in something approximating a wave.

  She smiled and waved back. Craig was one of their newer kids and understandably new to the whole routine of daycare. But lately, he’d really been coming out of his shell in a big way.

  After exchanging a few pleasantries, Craig’s mother guided him past the desk and toward one of the classrooms that lined the hall—Miss Lily's Hatchlings class. As the door opened, Ginger caught a glimpse of the teacher inside, her lithe form preparing some activity or craft at the counter. Lily brightened and knelt down to greet Craig with open arms.

  "Hi, Craig! Good morning little guy!"

  The woman swept him up enthusiastically. She held him in one arm, bobbing the boy lightly up and down as he reached out to tug at her horns.

  Craig’s mother didn’t bat an eye at the sight, of course. She smiled affectionately, not even noticing Lily's dusky purple skin or the sinuous barbed tail lashing happily behind the tiefling. If she had, Ginger doubted that the little safety caps adorning both horns and tail would have done much to reassure her.

  But why would she notice anything amiss? The woman wanted to see a normal person, and so she did. The very idea of things like tieflings and orcs and fairies existing was impossible. And so, the Mist was more than happy to aid that ignorance and present Lily as a completely normal woman.

  At least, that’s what Ginger assumed. There was no way for her to know what Mrs. Conrad really saw. But it had to be boring.

  Ginger smiled fondly at the sight, her butterfly wings fluttering behind her. It was times like this that she wondered what exactly the world looked like through a human’s eyes. Imagining a world without magic… it had to be rather dull and unremarkable. But then, they wouldn’t remember anything different. No one ever remembered the long ago times of their youth, where the fantastical reigned and stories came to life. Even if they did, such childish fantasies were easily written off as just that—fantasies. A figment of one's overactive imagination.

  After bidding farewell to the mother, Ginger turned back to her work. Craig was just the first of many children they’d be watching over today, and she had plenty more to take care of before things got busy. Organizing, cleaning, more paperwork… And on top of it all, she still had to prepare for that interview later.

  Normally she would have put it off—there was no shortage of people looking to work at the daycare, after all. But as a favor for an old friend… well, she simply couldn't ignore the request.

  Maybe if she was lucky, she wouldn’t have to clock more overtime today.

  Ginger marked a note with her pen, then tossed the paper aside, humming as she worked. One by one, the sheets fluttered into the air and found their spots in the cabinet.

  ***

  Sofia stared at the red traffic light, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel. The low murmur of a podcast droned on in the background as she watched a line of cars cruise through the intersection.

  A daycare. I can’t believe I’m interviewing at a daycare.

  Her post-college life wasn’t going in quite the direction she’d hoped. It wasn’t like she’d expected employers to be climbing over themselves for her attention. She’d even prepared herself for a grueling slog of full-time job searching and lowered her standards more than a few times. But this… well, as the months rolled by, she couldn’t help but feel a bit disheartened. Endless waves of fruitless job applications did things to a girl’s self esteem.

  I would even take an advertising or HR job at this point. At least then I’d be kind of using my degree. But no one’s hiring… And I’m pretty sure my Latin minor isn’t turning any heads, either.

  She took a deep, calming breath before the sour thoughts worsened. If she was being honest, it wasn’t the end of the world. The job market was pretty bad right now. Everyone knew that. But it would turn around any day, and then she’d have a lot more options. In the meantime…

  …I need a job. Something, anything to get myself on my feet and move back out of my mom's place. I just need an income to tide me over until I have a few more options.

  And so, she found herself driving toward her first interview in months.

  Sofia gripped the wheel a bit more tightly, the worn leather squeaking beneath her grip. She couldn’t help but feel nervous about the coming interview. What if they didn’t like her? What if she bungled it? It was pretty outside her area of expertise, and her already low morale from rejection after rejection certainly wasn't helping.

  No, she shook her head. I’ve got an interview, so that’s already progress. I even studied for it and went through every question I could think of. I just need to keep my head on straight…

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  As Sofia continued to run through interview questions in her head, the light changed to green. Her car started forward, the dull rumble of the engine clunking to life as the podcast continued to play.

  "...To this day, the question of where Abel Masterson went for those three hours remains a mystery. Whatever the cause of his disappearance—mundane or supernatural—it seems that we may never have an answer…"

  Sofia couldn’t help but snort. Her old roommate had introduced her to the podcast, which covered a lot of unsolved mysteries and cold cases, back when they were still in college. It was her go-to when driving. The topics generally stayed away from being too morbid or graphic, focusing instead on the details and puzzle of each case. It was fascinating to try and piece the picture together as she listened, as though she could unlock the secrets of what had really happened herself. Even if the hosts did give a bit too much credence to the more fantastical explanations.

  I get that the case is weird. I don't think anyone's arguing that him just disappearing, then showing up again forty miles away like nothing happened is normal. But him just swimming downstream or getting carried by a wild animal is still way more believable than some kind of alien or teleportation. Why do they even entertain that stuff?

  She shook her head in dismay. Too many people jumped to conclusions like that. Just because the case wasn't solved didn't mean it couldn't be solved—rationally, of course. There were probably just a few missing puzzle pieces.

  Her focus returned to the road as the buildings around her began to thin, slowly replaced with an encroaching forest. Tall evergreens and lush ash trees blurred past her windows as the road began to meander upward through the mountainous landscape. Turn after turn took her down increasingly wooded pathways until she began to wonder if she’d lost her way somewhere.

  I knew it was pretty far out, but still… I didn't think it was this isolated. Glancing toward the map on her phone, Sofia frowned. Nope. It says I’m going the right way… Maybe I put in the wrong address?

  Just as she began to think about pulling over to check her navigation, there was a break in the trees. Dappled sunlight filtered into a large clearing as her destination came into view.

  A massive cottage dominated the area, its rustic profile seeming to appear amidst the soft grass. Its walls were made of rounded river stones neatly piled atop each other, with whimsically rounded windows set into them at regular intervals. The entire aesthetic reminded her of a massive gingerbread house, right down to the bright colors of the trim and roof shingles.

  The structure's back disappeared into the forest, making it even harder to tell the exact scale of the place. A hand-carved sign out front identified the place as her destination: Ms. Grimm's Daycare.

  How long it had been here, she didn't know. But what was abundantly clear was that the building would have been more at home in the old English countryside. It looked completely out of place in the modern age, much less a few miles outside of Mistlewood.

  Though it doesn't EXACTLY look out of place. I mean, it's very much nailing the aesthetic of a cottage in the woods. But still… not what I expected from a functioning business.

  A small group of vehicles occupied a flattened gravel area in front of the building. Sofia parked in an empty spot and stepped out, her shoes crunching on the rocks below. Butterflies and other winged insects flitted about in the air, lazily looping around her as birds called across the clearing.

  The rustic image was spoiled only slightly as Sofia spotted a notably more modern buzzer and keycard scanner next to the front door. The tinny sound of a synthetic doorbell rang within as she pressed the button. Stepping back, she waited for someone to answer as she took in the area.

  Between the name, the architecture, and the location, it was abundantly clear that someone had put a lot of effort into evoking that fairytale theme. It was a pretty fitting choice, considering that the daycare catered specifically to young children. Even if it wasn't her personal favorite aesthetic, she could still appreciate the attention to detail.

  Still, was Ms. Grimm's really the best name choice? Even if it fits the theme, it could be construed as kind of… well, grim. Ominous.

  It only took a moment for the door to quietly creak open, seemingly of its own accord. Looking down, a short, plump woman who couldn’t have been taller than three feet stood in the gap, holding the door open with one hand. Her ginger hair was piled in a neat bun atop her head and streaked with a few wisps of gray. About her shoulders wrapped a lacy, glittery peach shawl patterned with flowers and butterflies.

  "Why, hello there," the elderly woman smiled up at Sofia gently, warmth seeming to radiate off her. "What can I do for you?"

  "Yes!" She straightened, recalling what she'd practiced. Good posture. Open body language. Confidence. "I'm here for an interview…?"

  "Oh! Well, you must be Sofia." The woman's face brightened and she opened the door wider. "It's so good to meet you, dearie. Come in, come in!"

  Sofia was led into a large reception area. The faint scent of freshly baked cookies and warm cinnamon greeted her like an old friend. Yet she barely had time to take in the mishmash of rustic decor and technology that characterized the place before the shorter woman summarily whisked her down one of the adjoining hallways, chattering all the while.

  "I must say, your timing is impeccable. It's almost naptime, so we should have a chance to talk in peace. Or at least, what passes for peace around here. There's always a chance that I might need to run off and help someone, of course, but things have been fairly quiet today, so I doubt anything too dire will pop up. I'll apologize in advance anyway." The woman tsked disapprovingly at a pile of crumbs on the floor as they walked. "By the way, did you enjoy the drive? I hope you didn't have trouble finding us."

  "Oh! Not at all," Sofia reassured her. Despite her doubts, the directions had ended up being straightforward enough. "It's a bit more isolated than I expected, though."

  "Oh, yes, we get that a lot." The woman gestured toward one of the doors near the end of the hall. "We certainly do value nature here. Most of us can't stand to be near towns for long, even one as small as Mistlewood. Too stuffy and busy, I'm sure you understand. Besides, you simply can't beat the privacy."

  Sofia could empathize, to some extent. She felt much the same about cities. Living in one for college had convinced her that the lifestyle simply wasn't for her.

  Still, Mistlewood is too stuffy for her? She probably lives way out in the sticks, then.

  The halls echoed with the sounds of babbling and laughing children. Occasionally, a high-pitched shriek set Sofia's nerves on edge, but her guide didn't so much as flinch.

  "Oh, I don't remember if I asked," Sofia interrupted the woman's continued speech. "What was your name again?"

  "Oh, where are my manners!" The woman clutched at her chest in dismay. "Of course! My name is Ginger, and I'm the director here at Ms. Grimm's. The little ones call me Miss Ginger. You obviously don't have to, but if you do, well, I won't be offended. Especially since you were one of our students once."

  Sofia nodded. "Right. My mom did mention that, but…"

  "Oh, it's quite all right if you don't recall," Ginger reassured her. "Who does, at that age? Why, even I have trouble remembering some of our old students."

  "Really? How long have you worked here?"

  "Quite a long time! Longer than you'd believe, I suspect."

  The woman—Ginger—chuckled at what was likely some joke Sofia didn't understand. As they walked, she snuck a peek into one of the various rooms that they passed. An assortment of tiny cots filled the darkened interior, and Sofia could just spot tiny shapes bundled up and laying atop them. The small bit of light filtering through the window illuminated a woman with midnight purple hair standing amongst them, cradling one of the kids in her arms and rocking him to sleep. Her lips moved soundlessly with what could only be a lullaby.

  "Here we are!"

  Sofia looked away from the scene as Ginger waved her inside a room. "Come in, come in. Pardon the mess, I've simply had so much on my plate lately that I haven't had time to clean…"

  They stepped into a small office space, Ginger hopping up to reach a too-tall chair behind the desk and shifting aside one particularly tall pile of papers as she motioned for Sofia to sit. As she did, the woman sighed and tucked a greyish-orange lock of hair behind her ear.

  "So. Have you worked with children before?"