Herman sighed as he stood by his mother's bedside, looking down at her frail form. Her pale face was drenched in sweat, and her breathing was shallow. "You must handle my errands today," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Of course, Mother. Just rest," he reassured her.

But his mother, a powerful witch, wasn't thinking clearly in her fevered state. She feared that Herman, her sometimes irresponsible son, might fail her. So with the last bit of strength she could muster, she cast a spell upon him. It was a simple enchantment---whatever she did that day, he would do as well. Satisfied, she drifted into a deep sleep.

Unaware of the magic now influencing his actions, Herman began his morning as usual. He stepped into the bathroom, stretching as he turned on the shower. His mother always used a particular lavender-scented body wash, and without thinking, he reached for it. The moment he applied it to his skin, a sense of peace washed over him. Then, as though it were the most natural thing in the world, he grabbed a razor and shaved his legs and underarms, just as his mother did every morning.

Once he was finished, he toweled off and walked into his mother’s bedroom to get dressed. His hands moved without hesitation, selecting a light floral blouse and a matching skirt. He pulled on a pair of nude stockings, stepping into them with ease before slipping his feet into pink flats. Still unaware of anything being amiss, he continued with his mother’s routine, brushing his hair neatly and ensuring he looked presentable. He took extra care in applying foundation, blush, and a soft pink lipstick before slipping his mother’s earrings into place and fastening a delicate necklace around his neck.

Moving back to his own room, he made his bed with meticulous care and straightened up, just as his mother would. He started the laundry, sorting clothes carefully, then moved through the house, doing light housework. Dusting, sweeping, arranging furniture---each task felt oddly satisfying.

When he was ready to leave, he grabbed his mother’s purse, slung it over his shoulder, and stepped out the door, moving through the world as his mother for the day.

At the hairdresser, he sat confidently in the chair and, without hesitation, insisted on hair extensions and having his hair tinted to match his mother’s exact shade. The stylist, impressed by his decisiveness, worked diligently to transform his short hair into flowing, luxurious locks. When it was done, Herman admired the soft waves that cascaded over his shoulders. To complete the look, he had a manicure done, choosing elegant false nails painted a deep, scarlet red. The smooth sensation of the nails against his fingertips felt strangely natural, and he admired them, flexing his fingers with delight.

Lunch followed, where he joined his mother’s friends at their favorite café. They immediately noticed his transformation.

"Darling, you look absolutely radiant today!" one of the women exclaimed. "That hair---it takes years off you!"