He puts his books down on the counter, and shuffles into the back room again. You can just see him rummaging around in a stack of papers on a messy desk. A few seconds later, he returns, carrying a piece of paper and two thick textbooks.
"Ah, Ms. Weaver, I have found the letter. You look like you'll be a great fit for our fine school of theoretical theurgy. Here, you just need to sign this paper, and you'll be ready to start classes tomorrow." He pushes a piece of paper towards you.