“Well, it’s your dime?” Ravenwood said, twirling a shiny coin along her knuckles.

Periwinkle looked up and blushed. The pixie fidgeted on the therapist’s sofa. She’d rather eat her own hair than share her feelings with a stranger. But she had to talk to someone. She had her wings, her dream job, but she couldn’t sleep. All of her thoughts wandered back to Harlow, her kinda fake boyfriend and very real ex. Day after day, her nights were endless.

“It’s hard for me to talk to people,” Periwinkle said.

Pausing the gold coin midair, Ravenwood flipped through the papers on her desk.

“I thought you interviewed applicants for that fancy dating app.”

“I do. But that’s gathering others’ stories and then piecing their life stories with other applicants’ stories to see if they align, compliment, contrast in an interesting non-irritating way. Do you know what I mean?”

Ravenwood cocked her head and went stock still the way bird shifters always do. Periwinkle willed her hands to stop shaking. The therapist’s eyes went from hazel to shiny black and then back to normal.

“So I’m single and ready to mingle. Interview me for this Spellbound thing,” Ravenwood said.

“I don’t know. I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Periwinkle sputtered.

“So what they say is true, Periwinkle. The dating app is mainly for high born elves and bougie witches. Furries need not apply, am I right?”

Drawing herself up to her full five feet, Periwinkle stamped her foot.

“Absolutely not. I’m a woods pixie for fates’ sake. Metaphorically and literally, the other Magicks look down on pixies. Encouraging all of us from the biggest grizzly shifter to the wee water fairies to intermarry not only saves our species but rattles the visages of the old Fae divides!”

“Good we’re in agreement. Hi, my name is Ravenwood of Green Hollow. I’m 112 and I like long walks on short piers.”

Chuckling, Periwinkle sat back down.

“Describe your ideal date,” Periwinkle said.

“Like what the fruit. Or April 2nd 1927. Or hot guys, I’m partial to bookish nerds with great abs,” Ravenwood answered waggling her eyebrows.

“Who doesn’t. No I mean riding winged horses into the sunset or a firefly lit dinner beneath the stars. Me I don’t like dating especially first dates. Too much face looking, too much pressure, I’d just as soon sit with my beloved on a park bench reading a book and sharing butterscotch crumpets. Now all jokes aside tell me what appeals to you, naughty bird.”

“I like to dance with wild abandon. My ideal date would be a dance class. Waltz, tango. These hips don’t lie. When you know you’re going into a stressful situation soothe your magic. Find a quiet place and drink tea. Try iced valerian with catmint honey, I hear it’s real tasty.”

Walking home ( periwinkle still wasn’t used to flying on her new wings) Periwinkle detoured to the local tea house and then a nearby park. The perfect bench awaited her. She kicked off her heels and rubbed her feet in the grass. A carpet of moss roses popped up where her toes touched the earth. Her magic tingled. She poured a cup of the iced tea.

“Periwinkle?”

“Harlow!”

Surrounded by colorful portulaca there stood Harlow with a pastry box. He’d been in a funk for weeks sleeping the days away, not sculpting, not casting spells, not going out. His latest therapist was non conventional. Instead of talking she recommended self-care, say a leisurely walk to an indulgent bakery and back through the park.

The accidental lovers looked at each other. Beautiful and maddening, this pixie did more than stir his passion. The warlock just plain liked her. He’d rather be annoyed with Periwinkle than happy with anyone else.

He sat down and snapped his fingers for a second glass. Harlow handed her a crumpet. Periwinkle poured him a tea.

“So Harlow ready to admit you were wrong and I was right?”

“You’re right. Butterscotch crumpets are the best.”