Birdie was standing outside an apartment building on a chilly October morning. It was early morning, and the sun had been up for only an hour. Birdie leaned against her car, a red 1998 Ford Mustang GT convertible, taking a drag on a cigarette.

She wore a white tank top and a long blue floral printed skirt. You could see her tattoos clearly on her shoulder. One of a bird in flight, and the other was a brand (an ankh and a twisted rope on each side of the ankh). Her long auburn hair glowed in the morning light, and her emerald eyes sparkled. She took one last puff of the cigarette and let it fall to the ground. She squashed it into the ground with her foot. She was thinking about her past. Her past long ago; almost another life time. She stared off into space and, in her mind's-eye, she watched it all happen again.

^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~

Birdie was walking along the street in Brooklyn on a warm spring day. The sun was shining and there were newsies all around, hawking the headlines for the day. Birdie wore a long brown skirt and a gray shirt, traditional for the times, and a pocket watch was attached to her waist. It was 1901, two years after the strike. She loved New York. Especially Brooklyn, since she and Spot Conlon were together.

She was going to get her morning paper, like always, from Spot. Just then, she heard shouting coming from down the street. She immediately picked up her pace. Almost running, she moved through the crowd of shouting newsies.

"Come on, Spot, ya kin do it," were several of the shouts that Birdie heard. "Git 'im, Spot! Git 'im," was another.

Birdie watched the two boys fight for a few seconds. It was Spot Conlon, her boyfriend, and Mac, from Queens. Spot's cane and slingshot were lying on the ground far from Spot's reach. Both boys were fighting ruthlessly. Each threw several punches and blocked others. It looked like Spot was winning, of course. Just then, Mac pulled out a knife and plunged it into Spot's stomach, and, just as quickly as he'd shoved it in, he yanked it back out. Spot was sprawled on the ground; blood oozed out of his stomach. Mac just stood there. Watching. Laughing.

Birdie's eyes had grown wide by this time. She couldn't believe it. She ran to Spot's side. Spot looked into her eyes and whispered. "I... love... you," he said in his last seconds of breath.

Birdie could tell it pained him to speak. "Shh, Spot. Quiet now. I love you, too," she whispered. She just held him until he stopped moving. Tears welled in her eyes. She held them back.

She looked up at Mac; a look ready to kill on her face. Birdie lay Spot on the ground carefully and stood up. Spot's blood had stained her clothing. The knife was laying on the ground next to her. She grabbed it. Mac's eyes widened, and he ran. She ran helter-skelter after him.

After a few minutes, Mac found himself in a dark alley. Little did he know that Birdie was waiting for him. She knew he'd go there. They had been very close friends once. Once. Mac walked farther into the alley, a dead end alley. What a perfect name for the alley, dead end. Birdie came out of the shadows and shoved the knife deep into Mac's stomach. She twisted it a few times and pulled it back out.

She stabbed him again and again in different places on his torso. Just to make sure he was dead. Mac lay on the filthy ground in a puddle of his own blood. Birdie was no idiot. She wiped off the finger prints on the knife and put Mac's hand on it. Getting as many of his fingerprints on it as she could. Then she plunged it back into his stomach, setting his hands near it.

She stood for a few seconds and reveled in her kill. She suddenly felt a sharp pain in her left arm. She ignored it and stealthily ran out of the alley. The newsies might have a good headline tomorrow, if anyone actually cared. "Newsie Brutally Killed: Gang Tactics Suspected," perhaps would be the headline. Who knows what the "improved" version would be.

She ran back to where Spot's body was. None of the newsies had dared to touch it. They all knew she'd killed Mac, but they had no real proof. Only a motive and her temper. She had a very short temper and was quick to take action on it. Birdie knelt beside Spot and brushed his matted, dirty-blond hair from his face, the second time she'd done so.

She longed to she his stormy-blue eyes sparkle with life again. He was so suave and handsome when he was alive. Now, just a shell in a pool of blood that looked like her Spot Conlon. She motioned for a few of the newsies to come pick him up. They promptly did, and she picked up his cane and slingshot. Birdie led them to the morgue.

***

A few days later, Spot's funeral was held. All the newsies from New York, and everyone that Spot had known, had come to the funeral. The mortician asked Birdie to do the eulugy, but she declined, so Jack did it. All the newsies did cry, everyone except Birdie. Ironically, she was the one who had lost the most, but she was the only one not crying.

At the cemetery, Spot's coffin was lowered into the ground and the dirt was placed over it. Most of the newsies tossed either coins or some flowers they'd picked on the way onto Spot's grave. Birdie had picked up three beautiful purple irises. Spot and her favorite flower. Three to symbolize the number of years they'd been together, pretty much since the strike.

Birdie was the last to leave the funeral. She just stood there, staring at the gravestone for hours. When the sun was setting, she finally left and went back to Queens, her home.

***

Birdie stayed in her room for weeks. She didn't want to see anyone, not even read a paper. All she had left of Spot was his cane, his slingshot, and her love for him. A few pictures, too. She would never love again. Everyone tried to get her out of her room. Nothing helped. They had enough trouble just getting her to eat. Even her brother, Jack, couldn't help.

Eventually, about three months later, Birdie left her room and went down to the river. She stood there for hours. Remembering how she and Spot used to stand there and stare out into the black water below. She just stood there. It began to rain. She didn't budge. She watched the rain drops make little ripples on the water. She was remembering Spot's face, his sly smirk, his stormy-blue eyes, the way they sparkled in the sun. A tear streamed down her face. She brushed it away and went back to her room. The last bit of emotion she would ever show. She promised herself that.

Birdie worked at the same office she had years before. She had been working there for a long time. She worked there for many more years. As her brother and the other newsies aged with time, she began to notice that she didn't. Jack, who was an executive at the New York Sun (thanks to Bryan Denten), was worried about her. He couldn't understand why she wasn't aging like the rest of them.

Several more years past; Jack was a grandfather. Birdie began to look more like his grand-daughter than his sister.

Finally Birdie left New York. It was after the Depression. Just before the Great War. Birdie moved right smack to the middle of the country. No way would she get involved in that infernal war. A few years later, Birdie figured it out. Why she hadn't been aging. Why she had this brand on her shoulder. It was because of that damned amulet. The one she'd used to revive Spot back in Manhattan all those years before. The damned thing was evil. She had used it only briefly to save Spot's life.

Then, years later, she'd brutally killed Mac. Signed. Sealed. Delivered. When she'd killed Mac, her soul was no longer hers. She still had the amulet. Jack'd left it to her in his will. She looked into it and found an inscription in an ancient language. She could read it somehow. It read: "Save a life with this amulet and take another's. You will belong to me." She figured it meant that if she used the amulet, which she did, and if she killed anybody, which she did, her soul was the devil's (or some other deity's), which it was.

Figuring out how to avoid being the devil's forever wasn't real high on her priority list though. Of course she didn't want to be controlled all her life, but nothing had happened that would make her want to die yet. She had no reason to live, nor did she have a reason to die. She had no chance of seeing Spot again, whether she was alive or not. She decided just to live it out and see what happened. That was all she could do. The devil was her master and would be for all time. She had to do what he asked, if he asked.

Birdie decided to move again. This time she moved to the nation's capital, Washington, D.C. She decided that she'd better live in a surrounding city. She moved to Virginia and enrolled in school there. She looked about 19 or so, though she was really 119. She had enrolled as a junior in high school and found a part time job at a supermarket. Not too bad considering all that she's been through.

^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^

Birdie was leaning against her car. Another car drove past, snapping her out of her daze. She shook her head and got into her car. She drove to school and parked in the parking lot. Next, she walked to the front office to pick up her schedule. School had been in session for about a month, and she was a new student.

She carried her bag, a square bag, just large enough for school books, that had one strap, on her trek from the school lot. She picked up her schedule and looked for her first class. She began to wonder why the hell she'd enrolled in school in the first place. Then she thought to herself, "Ta git a cushy job, dat's why."

Birdie found her first class, English. "Fun," she thought. The teacher introduced her as Kathryn. Birdie didn't want to be called Birdie anymore. It was far too painful. She wasn't too keen on being called Kathryn either, but it wasn't nearly as painful. Kaitie, however, was. Spot had called her Kaitie.

Kathryn pretty much kept to herself the whole day. Her next class was math, boring as ever. Then science, not quite as dull. Her last class happened to be chorus.

"Wonderful," she thought, actually glad. She loved to sing, even though she didn't get much pleasure out of it anymore. She walked in with her transcript and presented it to the teacher, who asked which part she sang. Kathryn replied, "Any of them." The teacher decided to put her with the 2nd Sopranos, the middle octive.

Kathryn received her music and a folder in which to keep it. It turned out the class was having auditions for solos that day. Kathryn decided she may as well sign up and try her luck. Some of the other girls who'd auditioned were very good. Others weren't quite as good. Kathryn had signed up last, so she could hear how the song went. The teacher was surprised to see Kathryn's name up. After all, she was the new girl.

The teacher called her up, and Kathryn sang the song. She had the most beautiful voice in the world. The best range of all the others in the class. She could sing the lowest notes a human could hear, or a glass shattering high note on perfect pitch for as long as you wanted. Everyone in the class was blown away by her voice. It was so beautiful, and so was she (by the boys in the class). The boys in the class were very taken by her. Kathryn was chosen to sing the solo, as an actual solo, at the next competition, and every time the song was sung.

***

A few days later, Kathryn had several suiters. They all wanted to take her to a dance called Homecoming. Kathryn didn't want to go to any social gathering, nor did she want a date with anyone. She still loved Spot with all her heart. She turned every single one of the guys down, one imparticularly she wanted to hurt.

The football captain. The cockiest guy in the whole school. Sure, he was good looking. Sure, he was the captain of the football team. Sure, every girl in the school would kill to date him. But Kathryn wanted nothing to do with him. Absolutely nothing.

"Hey, Kaitie," the football captain yelled across the parking lot.

Kathryn spun around and looked at him, fire filled her eyes. He had sufficiently gotten her attention. James, that was his name, came up to her. "Don't cha evah call me Kaitie again," Kathryn said sternly.

"Oh, come on, Kaitie. You're very lucky today," James said as he wrapped his arm around her waist. Kathryn cringed. The other girls in the parking lot swooned.

Kathryn rolled her eyes, but she decided to humor him. "'N' why's dat?" she asked in an I-don't-really-care-but-I'll-bet-yer-gonna-tell-me-anyway tone of voice.

"I've chosen YOU to accompany me to the Homecoming Dance," James said matter-a-factly.

"Aww, really? Well, I gots some news fer ya," Kathryn started.

"And what's that?"

"I ain't goin' nowheres wit' chu. Now git off a me," she yelled as she shoved him away from her.

This angered James. No girl had ever turned him down before. "Oh, yes you are," he said angrily and grabbed her arm.

"Oh, no I ain't," Kathryn retorted furiously.

James let go of her arm and backhanded her across the face. Kathryn's eyes burned with anger. She would've killed him right there, had it not been for that infernal amulet and the promise she made because of it. The damn thing had ruined her life; it had prolonged it. She looked back into James's eyes. They were angry as well. Kathryn held his eyes for a long time. Taunting him to hit her again. He almost did.

"Come on, James. What're ya waitin' fer? Hit me. Come on. Hit me," she taunted furthur.

"All right, you asked for it."

James raised his hand to hit her again. Kathryn smirked. Just as his hand was about to fly, Kathryn grabbed it and flung him over her shoulder onto the ground. He landed with a hard *THUD!* All the female spectators came running, to see if he was all right of course. Kathryn just stood there and watched him; she was smiling the whole time.

"Nevah, evah, evah cross me agin. Ya hear dat? Nevah," she said sternly. Kathryn walked off to her car and drove away. She was so angry at James. She had to try so hard to control her temper. She didn't want to lash out at him and lose her chance at Heaven. Kathryn turned on the radio and drove home.

***

Kathryn walked up the stairs to her apartment. She entered her apartment and set her bag down on the counter. Then she fixed herself a mug of tea to calm down. She was still very angry with James. If she was her old self, she would have either soaked him real well or killed him. Depending on how mad she was at him at the time. More than likely, she would've mortally wounded him. She really wanted to hurt him badly. Kathryn drank her tea and sat down on the couch.

Her apartment was rather dull, two rooms, a kitchen, and a bathroom. There weren't many decorations up either. After all, she'd be leaving again soon anyway. She didn't like to stay in any one place too long. In her bedroom was a single bed, a dresser, and a night table. On the night table was an alarm clock and the amulet. In her living room was a couch, a radio, a television and VCR, and a table. On the table was a picture of her and Spot; they both looked so happy in that picture. In a drawer of the table was the newspaper from the strike; the one with the picture of the boys. Every once in a while she'd pull it out and read it. She was very careful with it though. It was her last link to Spot. Save her memory and the picture.

Kathryn picked up the picture and looked at herself in it. She thought to herself, "I look so happy in dis pictchah. I wonder what wouldda happened if I'd stopped Mac dat day. I shouldda stopped 'im. It's my fault dat Spot died. I knew Mac was gonna pull dat knife, but Mac got his jist rewards." Kathryn smiled at that last part. The first time she had really smiled since Spot died. It felt good to smile again. Kathryn decided that she would try to be her old self again. She would be Birdie. Everyone would still call her Kathryn, of course, but she would act like Birdie. That made her smile again.

She set the picture back down and went to fix herself some dinner. She ate dinner and then went to a video store. She rented a video names NEWSIES. She'd heard about it a few years earlier, and, now, she decided to finally see it. She brought it home and began to watch it. It was well done. She actually enjoyed it. The newsies in the movie won the strike, just as in real life.

She found it interesting that one of the characters was Spot Conlon, her Spot Conlon. The actor who played him bore a striking resemblance to the real Spot Conlon. The actor had long brownish hair and very blue eyes. Her Spot had dirty-blond hair and stormy-blue eyes. How interesting that they chose that actor.

After Kathryn was finished watching the movie, she rewound it and went to bed. The first time in many years. Kathryn didn't sleep often. It seemed like every time she shut her eyes, she saw Spot murdered again and again and again. So she stopped sleeping all together. She decided to sleep now because she was in a good mood and had come to terms with Spot's death, finally.

***

Gabe sat straight up in bed; he was sweating. He looked around his room. Nothing, only darkness. He clicked on a lamp and blinked at the sudden light. He had just had a very intense dream. He tried to make sense of it.

First he'd seen a boy, who looked very much like him, stabbed in a fight. Then he saw a girl rush to his side. Then the girl ran after the kid who'd stabbed the first guy. He saw the girl murder the second guy and fix it so that it looked like suicide. All the people in the dream were wearing very old fashioned clothing. The girl wore a long skirt, and all the boys seemed to be wearing suspenders and newsboy hats.

Next, he saw a girl leaning against a red car. She was wearing a blue floral print skirt and a white tank top. He could see two tattoos on her shoulder. One of a bird and the other was an ankh and two symbols he didn't know surrounding the ankh. The girl looked just like the girl who had killed that one guy. She was beautiful. She had green eyes and long auburn hair. That was the pleasant sight in the dream.

Then Gabe saw fire and lightening surround the girl. As if they were protecting her from something. The girl didn't seem to notice. Gabe was engulfed in the flames, and then he had suddenly woken up. He couldn't make sense of what the images meant, only what they were. He was very confused.

***

The next morning, Kathryn awoke early. She'd only slept about three hours; she wasn't used to sleeping any more. She went to school as usual and everyone left her alone that day. They'd all heard of what she'd done to James. He'd certainly deserved it.

Kathryn just kept to herself for the next few weeks. She was somewhat happier, but she still kept to herself. No one really noticed; they were all afraid of her. Kathryn kept mainly to the same routine: eat breakfast, go to school, stay for a while, go home, eat dinner, sleep for a few hours, then start over again.

Then, one day, she heard about the play. Every spring her school put on a musical. The students acted and sang in it. Some directed and worked on the sets and props. Kathryn thought it might be fun to try out, do an extracurricular activity, so she did. She didn't really know, or even care, what the musical was.

It turned out to be Les Misérables. A wonderful story with wonderful songs. Kathryn got the part of Fantine, the leading lady. Mainly because of her voice, and she had some acting talent, too. Kathryn stayed every day while they rehearsed and got ready for the play. She found it a lot of fun, and she actually preferred as little sleep as possible.

A few months later, it was opening night. All the other students were nervous as anything, not Kathryn. She found it all rather dull. It was only a simple performance for an auditorium full of people. Not that big a deal to her. She'd been in much more stressful situations. Just look at the strike.

On the last day of the play, about two hours before the play started, all the cast members and techies gathered in a place called Green Room. Green Room is where everyone gives gifts to members of his or her crew or just jokes around with them. The theater teacher, Mrs. Armee, spoke first.

"I'd like to thank every one of you for helping put on the play this year. So far we've had a fabulous turn out. Every one I've spoken to about it has loved it. You all have done a wonderful job, and I congratulate you all on your success," Mrs. Armee said. She continued talking for about ten more minutes, babbling about how good every one was doing. Then she finally handed the floor over to the stage manager.

"I think Mrs. Armee did a sufficient job in congratulating you all." A few laughs circulated. "I'd just like to add one more thing. Let's give it up for the cast!" Everyone started clapping and cheering. "Now let's give it up for the techies!" Again the room exploded with cheers. "Okay, okay. Now, why don't we hear a short speech from one of our leading ladies. Kathryn, come on up here." The stage manager motioned for her to go up there. She stood up and walked up to him.

"Uh, thanks everone. I don't got a gift er anythin' fer anyone. I don't got da money ta buy one eidder." A few laughs circulated the room. "Well, um, all I gots is a song I wrote. I was gonna sing it at da cast party, but dis seems as good a time as evah."

Everyone in the room became silent and listened. Kathryn grabbed a guitar that was leaning against the wall. She began playing. She sang and walked around the room. Her song was about the jokes and mess-ups of several of the crew and cast members. Sort of a tribute to their efforts. She would stand next to one while she sang about him, and next to another while she sang about him. She poked fun at most of the crew members especially, several of the cast members, too. They all had a good laugh.

Soon it was time for the cast to get ready. Several others had spoken after Kathryn finished her song. They had a lot of fun in Green Room. Kathryn really enjoyed the theater department. The play went on a short time later. A few things went wrong, but no one in the audience seemed to notice.

The play was a big success. The audience adored it all three nights it was put on. After the play, all the cast went out to the lobby to find friends and family. Kathryn did the same, even though she knew no one who'd be there. She went out there anyway, and, really, why not?

She mingled amongst the people, being congratulated by complete strangers at every turn. Kathryn was still acting though. She had a happy smile on her face, completely different from what she felt inside. Inside she longed for Spot to have seen her in the play; she still missed him so much.

Kathryn was still mingling when she suddenly stopped short. That's when she saw him. A guy with long brownish hair and blue eyes. Kathryn just stood there, staring at him. The boy had noticed her a few minutes earlier. He was shocked when he first saw her. He had a strong feeling of déjà vu. He had seen her somewhere before. Then it came to him. His dream!

Her long auburn hair was pulled into a messy bun (she'd taken her wig off). She wore a long white skirt and a white tank top with spaghetti straps. She was still in her last stage costume. The boy could see her tattoos clearly; the same ones he'd seen months before. He finally understood why he'd come to see the play.

Both just stood there, staring at each other. Kathryn couldn't believe it. It was Spot. He had come to see the play! Kathryn began to walk towards him. People blocked her path. She walked around them. She got to the place he'd been standing. He was gone. Kathryn looked around frantically.

"Where's 'e? Where'd 'e go?" she thought to herself as she turned every which way looking for him. Then one of the other cast members came up to her.

"Hey, Kathryn. That was some performance you did tonight," she began. Then she noticed Kathryn really wasn't paying much attention to her. "Kathryn, are you all right?" she asked.

"What? Oh, I'se sorry, Suz. What were ya sayin'?" Kathryn replied. Finally she stopped looking for the boy.

"I said that that was some performance you did tonight. I think it was the best of all of them."

"Thanks, Suz. I appreciate dat, really," Kathryn replied politely. Susan nodded and turned to congratulate several of the other actors. Kathryn sighed and went backstage. She was anxious to get home now.

***

A few days later, on Monday at school, everyone was still talking about the play. In every class Kathryn had, everyone was congratulating her on a job well done. Apparently she'd acted very well. Everyone seemed to like her performance, but Kathryn was melancholy. She still couldn't figure out who that boy was. He did bare a striking resemblance to Spot, but he wasn't Spot. From a distance he looked like Spot, but she thought about the two images, the boy at the play and Spot. They didn't quite match up. There were subtle differences, but she noticed them.

"Hey, Kaitie!" James called.

Kathryn snapped out of her trance. "I tol'ja not ta call me dat, James," she said as he came up to her.

"I just wanted to say that I'm sorry about what happened when you first got here. It's just that you're the most beautiful girl in the school, and I have to date the girl with that title," James explained.

Kathryn frowned. "Really? Well, I ain't datin' ya now er evah. So ya kin save yer breath. Leamme alone," Kathryn said angrily.

"Yeah, but..." James started.

"No!" Kathryn interrupted, "now, leamme alone." Kathryn walked off. James shoved his hands in his pockets and did the same.

"I hate that girl," James said to his friends down the hall.

"Then why do you keep trying to 'win' her affection?" one of his friends asked.

James shot him an evil look. "Because she's the most beautiful girl in school; that makes her the best. And don't I deserve the best?" James said.

"Yeah, yeah, of course, of course," they all replied, not wanting to get pounded. James was really getting on their nerves. He was getting cockier by the day. He was no more the friend they'd once thought him to be. He was a real jerk.

James was losing more and more friends throughout the year. By the end of the year he would have no friends, save himself. Of course he could talk to that one friend, in a mental institution.

***

A week later, Kathryn was walking around the school after classes were over. She had stayed to finish up an assignment for one of her classes. She had finished it about five minutes earlier and had to stop by the office quickly to pick something up. She did so and went to sit on a bench outside in the front lobby.

She was arranging papers in her bag when he walked in. She didn't see him walk in. He watched her fiddle with her papers. Her back was turned towards him, so she didn't see him. Her long hair was pulled across her neck and hung down by her face. Her skirt complemented her slender figure, and her shirt showed off her tattoos and figure quite well. He could see those same tattoos. The bird he could see clearly; the other was obscured a little. He stood there and watched her for several minutes. Then she dropped her papers all over the floor. She bent to pick them up. He walked over to help her pick them up.

"Oh, drat," Kathryn said under her breath.

"Here, lemme help," the boy said.

"Thanks. Thanks a lot," Kathryn said, still not looking up.

After they had successfully gathered up all the papers, the boy handed his bunch to Kathryn. She stood up and finally looked at her helper. Kathryn gasped. It was the boy from the play.

"You're very welcome," the boy said.

"It's you," Kathryn said, astonished.

"Yeah, I was surprised when I saw you at the play that night," the boy replied. "Can I ask you a question?" he said.

"Yeah," Kathryn answered, not sure what was going on.

"Who are you? I mean, I've seen you everywhere. In my dreams, at the play, and now here. You seem so familiar, but I can't place you at all. Not really anyway," he said.

"Kathryn Kelly, but my friends back home used ta call me Boidie," Kathryn replied.

"Birdie!?" the boy said, surprised. "Now I know where I saw you."

Kathryn ignored his last statement. "Now it's my turn. Who are ya?" Kathryn asked.

"Oh, right. My name's Gabe Damon," he answered.

Kathryn looked into his eyes. There was a short silence. "No, dat's not yer name," she said slowly, noticing something hiding behind his eyes.

"That's the one my mother gave me," Gabe said.

"One of 'em anyhow. Yer Spot, Spot Conlon," Kathryn said.

"No, I'm not. I played him in a movie I did a few years ago, but that's not who I am. My name's Gabe," he tried to convince her.

"I know dat, but yer real name's Spot Conlon. Jist not from dis life. Ya said a minute ago ya know where ya saw me befoah. Where was dat?" Kathryn asked.

"In a dream a long time ago. I don't remember ever dreaming it really, but I remember seeing you in it and not me," Gabe replied.

"Dat's because it ain't no dream. It's a memory."

"A what!?!" Gabe asked in shock.

"A memory. Da reason ya din't see yerself is because it was from yer point of view. Yer perspective. A memory, Spot," Kathryn explained.

Gabe looked confused for a few seconds, then he seemed to understand. "A memory," he said.

He raised his hand and brushed his fingers across Kathryn's cheek, staring into her emerald eyes. They sparkled like the stars for the first time in almost a century. Kathryn just stared back into Gabe's blue, blue eyes.

"Yes, Birdie, a memory. I remember it all now."

Kathryn smiled; a single tear rolled down her cheek. Gabe wiped it away and leaned in to kiss her. They kissed for a long time (And why not? They haven't seen each other in 96 years, give them a break).

"I knew ya'd remembah, Spot. I knew ya would," Kathryn said after a few minutes. Gabe just looked back at Kathryn and helped her with her belongings. Kathryn picked up her bag and stuffed her papers into it. They left the lobby and walked to Kathryn's car.

As they were walking, Gabe asked, "Can I tell you something else?"

"Sure, anythin' ya want," she replied.

"Well, a few weeks ago, I was living at my house out west. Then I had this dream one night. The dream was about a girl, you, and a boy, me, I guess. But I could see myself, not in a mirror or anything. Like I was an observer. I saw two boys fighting, one, I guess, was me. Then the other boy pulled out a knife and-" Kathryn suddenly dropped everything she was carrying. "Are you all right?" Gabe asked.

"Yeah, jist fine. Skip da dream pawt, please. Git ta da point," Kathryn replied quickly, picking up her stuff.

"Are you sure?" Kathryn nodded. "Well, the next day I had this strange feeling. I was reading this paper, and I saw an advertisement for Les Misérables. I decided to go see it, but I wanted to see it live rather than in a movie theater. Then I had this thought, I should go to Virginia for a while. Then, later, I bought a plane ticket and, last week, I flew in here. I'm very glad that happened. If I hadn't acted on that feeling, I never would've seen you again," Gabe continued.

"I'se glad, too, but I think it's my fault dat yer here." Gabe looked confused. "Well, I been missin' ya an awful lot lately, 'n' I been havin' a recurrin' dream. That dream. Spot 'n' I were real close the first time 'e was alive. I guess it transferred wit' 'is soul," Kathryn said and looked to the ground.

Gabe was confused, but he shrugged it off, and they both got into Kathryn's car. Then they drove off into the sunset, to be married and live together forever.

~^~^~^~^~^^~^~^~^^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^

Kathryn's curse had been lifted the second that she kissed Gabe. Now she could live a natural life. She could die within a certain amount of years. Kathryn was very glad she was aging again. Sure it was nice to stay young forever, but after living 119 years, you get kind of bored with it.

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© 1997 Birdie Kelley

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