Nov. 27: Allen

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Today seemed like it was going to be uneventful.

Sadly, that assumption was wrong.

At 6 p.m. there was a knock on my window.

Bradley Pack stood outside waiting for me.

"Where are we going," I asked him.

"You'll see," he said.

Bradley took me to the elementary school we had attended when we were little.

He knocked on the door.

"It's Thanksgiving break, Bradley, no one is going to..."

The door opened.

"Thanks Allen," Bradley told the elderly janitor who let us in.

Bradley lead me into our classroom from fourth grade.

We sat down and talked for a while.

"Have you seen Darla recently," Bradley asked me.

"No," I tensed up.

Bradley was smart enough to steer away from the sensitive topic he had just touched.

"I remember," he said, "fourth grade was the first year we were in the same class. The day I met you I told you that you were the most beautiful girl I had ever seen and so you blushed. Just like you are now."

"Shut up," I pushed him over.

"You know it was thanks to you that I realized I had potential to be a flirt," he said, "I've been working on those skills ever since fourth grade. I have to say I think I'm as smooth now as ever."

"Sure you are," I said sarcastically.

"Oh Cait, are you doubting my suaveness. Just you wait. By the time graduation rolls around I will have tricked the prettiest and smartest girl in school to be my girlfriend," he told me, "You'll see."

But I wouldn't see.

And for once I was glad I wouldn't.

To see Bradley with another girl would kill me.

The rest of the night with Bradley was a blast.  It was late when I arrived home and wrote a letter.

Allen,
Will you please try and make it to my funeral? It will be near the end of December of this year.

R.S.V.P. to my mother.

Goodbye,
Caitlyn

P.S. Thank you for letting us in the elementary school.  You are the coolest janitor I've ever met.

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