No one gets a warning. It’s all luck. People think that if they’re kind they’ll get good karma. That’s not it. If it was, she’d still be here.

No one gets a warning. So when I saw my name scrippled on the side walk in red chalk, I thought it was the neighbors kids. It wasn’t them. And it wasn’t chalk.

No one gets a warning. So the dark silhouette in the forest next to school didn’t mean anything. And didn’t mean anything when I hear “pack your bags” in my ear. For the next six hours.

No one gets a warning. So when I was woken up at 3am I was surprised. When I was stolen out of my bed and thrown into a small clear sphere, I was surprised. Then I realized.

Everyone gets a warning. Everyone gets a hint, but no one would believe them. So they stopped telling. 𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘯'𝘵 𝘐 𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘦𝘵?

I looked out the guard, through tunnel vision and tears. But I wasnt flying to heaven or hell. I was flying to a town. Little cobblestone streets and mushroom-looking houses. I saw them like a eagle saw an empire.

Then it broke. The glass broke and I was left falling down, and down, and down. Until I landed on a cushy soft... Blanket? Townspeople held the fabric under me. Was I saved? Or was I never in danger to begin with?

They set the blanket down. I looked up, dizzy. Looked up to find a girl with curly red hair and a face littered with freckles. At least two-hundred thirty seven.

At least two-hundred thirty seven was the amount of freckles I counted when we were laying on her window seat. I remember.

"Haylie?" said a nostalgic smile,

"What?" I breathed,

"It's me." I crying and stood up to embrace her

"It's you."