It’s 7 p.m., not quite witching hour, but Melissa Madara is intently melting the side of a dark blue spell candle so that it can fit into the mouth of an empty whiskey bottle. “I’m being the most boring witch ever,” she says.
The séance was scheduled to start at 7 p.m. and anyone arriving 10 minutes late would be turned away, so I left the office early and headed straight to my friend’s house off the Graham L to smoke a bowl. Or two. Or three.