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As Katie Elizabeth Taylor walked home from spending the afternoon at the park by herself a storm was starting. The wind blew her shoulder length auburn hair into her face and she held her thin jacket closer to her body as she shivered.

The walk home was a relatively short one. All she had to do was cross the bridge one block away from the park, turn left at the street after it, and then a right onto her street. Normally she hated walking home, because with each step she was closer to a place where she felt indifferent, and lonely. But today, due to the cold, she was almost happy to be heading home.

When she got to the middle of the bridge she stopped, as she normally did, and looked over the edge at the water. There was a man to her left smoking a cigarette and leaning against the railing, but she paid him no mind. She just stared at the water rushing under the bridge.

“Don’t even think about it.” came a mans voice.
Katie turned to her left and looked at the man who hadn’t moved a muscle. “Don’t think about what?”
“Excuse me?” the man asked as he turned to look at her.
“You told me not to think about it. Think about what?” Katie told the man.
“I didn’t say anything.” the man insisted.
“Yes you did, I heard you.” Katie argued.
“You’re crazy.” the man said. He threw the butt of his cigarette on the ground, stepped on it, and walked away.
“Whatever. Jerk.” Katie said as she turned around to look at the water again.

She tried to concentrate on the movement of the water. Tried to lose herself and immerse her thoughts in the river flowing under the bridge she stood on but couldn’t. The smoking man had interrupted her train of thought. She sighed and began walking the rest of the way home.

She got in her house, took off her jacket, grabbed a soda and headed up to her room. She sat down at her desk. The desk was cluttered with paper, Cds, pens, empty soda cans, and various other things. Her room looked about the same. Clothes, more papers, and other miscellaneous items lay scattered on the floor, and the walls were covered with so many pictures and posters that you were unable to see the wall at all.

She grabbed an unmarked medicine bottle from a desk drawer and looked at the contents inside. 5 pills of OxyContin lay inside. Just in case. She put her head down on the desk and twirled the bottle in her hand - contemplating.

“Okay, I seriously wouldn’t do it if I were you.” came the voice from before.

Katie’s head snapped up when she jumped and she dropped the bottle and it clanked onto the desk with a thunk. She wheeled her chair around and there on the bed was the source of the voice.

He was staring at the ceiling and didn’t even bother turning his head to meet her face. He knew what she looked like, and he knew she knew who he was.

“W-w-who are you?” she stuttered.
“You know who I am.” he said and this time did turn his head to meet her stare.

She did but she couldn’t believe it. Her eyes were telling her that Kurt Cobain lay on her bed. He was the spitting image of the pictures of him that were on her wall and yet her brain couldn’t believe it. There was just no way that the Kurt Cobain could be laying on her bed. The man’s been dead for 15 years!

“But you can’t be!” she protested.
“And why not?” he asked.
“Because you’re…you’re supposed to be…aren‘t you…” she spluttered.
“Dead?” He finished.
“Yeah!” Katie almost yelled.
“Well I still am you know. I didn’t come back to life or anything crazy like that.” He told her.
“Then how the hell are you here?!” Katie yelled now beyond flustered.
“I’m your guardian angel.” he stated.

The Way Things Work

“You’re kidding.” Katie said.
Kurt raised an eyebrow and looked at her. “How the hell else would I be here?”
Katie had no answer for that. “Alright, how can you be my guardian angel? I was 3 when you died. Don’t you get an angel when your born?”
“You get one when you’re born yeah, but it changes. You get one for your childhood, then you get assigned a new one in pre-teen stage, and then you get another one in your mid-teens that you keep until you hit middle-age which is about 40 for you.” He explained.
“My mid-life is 40? That means I’m going to die at 80?” she asked.
“Yeah, around then. Unless you fuck it up. See, you’re in a group called Varies. You’re mid-life is varying every time you think about killing yourself. About 5 minutes ago, you had passed your mid-life at the age of 9. Now, the average person has 4 guardian angels, Varies on the other hand, have 3 because they never get assigned someone at their mid-life since their mid-life changes every 5 fucking minutes.” Kurt explained.
“But say I do life ’till 40.” Katie said.
“Then you will have 4. But most Varies don’t make it through their depression and kill themselves.” He said.
“Is that why you’re here?” Katie asked.
“Yeah.” he said.

Katie stopped talking and Kurt turned away from her again, finding the ceiling interesting again. “You’re ceiling is plain.”

Katie didn’t answer, she was thinking and taking in all of what Kurt just explained.

“Can I ask you something?” Katie said suddenly.
“It’s about time you said something.” He said.
“Why are you MY guardian angel?” she asked.
He knew what she meant. Why would he be here with a stranger instead of being with his own daughter? “I don’t get to chose." he sighed, "I was assigned.”
“Why can’t you chose?” she asked.
“Because I already made one choice.” he said.
“What?” Katie asked confused.
“If you die, you do get to chose who you want to be the angel for and for what stage in their life. For example, your grandpa became your grandma’s guardian angel when she hit her mid-life.” He paused and sighed. “He got to choose because he died not by his choice, but by the way fate chose. Me on the other hand…I chose to die. Those who choose to die don’t get to chose things in the afterlife, it’s our punishment, we do what we’re told.”
“Oh…so does my grandpa hang around my grandma’s house?” Katie asked.
“Yeah, he talked to you once. You were really little."
Katie was shocked.
"Yeah, that was him you saw a few Christmas’s ago. That blue orb.” He stated.
“He really did talk to me? Didn’t he want to see my mom? Why didn’t he wait for me to get her?” Katie asked a little frantically.
“He couldn’t. Your mom would have remembered. The rule is this: You can only appear to the person you’re guarding, OR someone who won’t remember. You were too young to remember, so you could see him.” Kurt said.
“But then why did he ask to see my mom?” Katie asked. “Didn’t he know the rule?”
“He did, but he wanted to try anyway.” Kurt said.
“Oh.” Katie said. “I wish I could have him appear again.”
“A lot of people wish things like that, unfortunately, you’re too old now. He likes when you go in the basement and sing though.” Kurt said.

Katie smiled and started crying a little.

“Here, you’re tired. Take a nap.” Kurt said and moved off the bed.

Katie was too wrapped up in her thoughts to notice that she had gotten up and walked over to her bed where she fell asleep.

Now you've done it...

Katie woke up feeling oddly refreshed instead of the usual grogginess. She looked around her room, looking for any signs that last night had happened. She looked towards her desk chair and found no traces of a bottle of pills that had crashed on her desk and rolled on to the floor - nothing.

It was a Monday morning. She got up, got ready for work (she works for her college in the Administrative building), and left her house in 15 minutes, dismissing last night as just some crazy dream. The drive to work sucked, as it was pouring rain outside and her day at work sucked just as much. Her co-worker, Omar, - who she addressed as “the fuck-I-work-with” in her head- was going on about how anyone who did any of the things Katie was into was a giant idiot. Her boss seemed pissed at her all day for no reason, and she even was able to piss off the Dean of Students whose office was connected to hers.

This was not shaping up to be a good day at all. Home was no better. The moment she walked in the damn door she was greeted with the pissy attitude of her moms boyfriend. Something about her leaving the hallway light on, and accusing her of not caring since she wasn’t the one who paid the electric bill. She wasn’t in a good mood and she snapped back at him and argued how he didn’t exactly pay them either.

In hindsight, this was the worst thing she could have done. Too bad her mouth starts before her brain does. Her one comeback resulted in her getting yelled at, accused of being her father (who she loathes), and told she was going to be kicked out of the house. After the hour of being screamed at she headed upstairs to her room, turned on her computer, started iTunes, put the speakers on as loud as they would go and then sat down on her chair. She opened her desk drawer and located the bottle of pills, that in her crazy dream had crashed to the floor, opened the bottle, and without thinking twice about it, popped all of them into her mouth.

It took a few moments, but she began to feel really odd. Her head pounded for some reason, and it was getting harder and harder for her to breathe. The light entering her eyes began growing dimmer and soon there was nothing for her to see at all.

She felt her conscience begin to come back but everything remained dark and quite. Suddenly a loud, annoyed voice pierced the dead, black silence.

“Well, you’ve fucking done it now haven’t you.”

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