I gazed up in awe at the enormous building that filled my entire field of vision. How could anything possibly be so big? I was getting a sore neck just looking at it. But it was not the one I was looking for. I sighed and stared dejectedly at the brick in front of me. Now what?
Someone bumped into me, breaking my gaze from the wall. The middle-aged man who had nearly knocked me over stumbled, then turned to see what had tripped him.
"You're a little young to be by yourself, honey," he said, squinting at me. Well duh, I couldn't help but think, mentally rolling my eyes. He looked around. "Where's your mum?"
I watched him, not bothering to answer. He didn't really care - he just wanted to clear his conscious for not looking where he was going, and nearly sending a child sprawling. Jerk. His gaze fell back on me.
"Not much of a talker, huh?" he asked, as though we'd known each other since forever. I grated my teeth. No matter how often it happened, I still got pissed off when an adult spoke to me like I was 3 months old. He knelt down so his eyes were level with mine.
"That's ok, but I have to know if your mum is around. Are you by yourself?" I tried not to let my annoyance show: why do people insist on being so nosy all the time?
Putting on my most innocent expression, I shook my head.
"Is she nearby?" he pressed. Something in his tone had changed; he seemed more concerned now, obviously wondering if I was on my own or lost. Keeping my wide-eyed expression, I nodded.
"Did she tell you to wait here?"
What was with the twenty questions? I was already getting bored�unless� I studied him a bit more closely as an idea popped into my mind. He was a lot older than he first looked - probably around his late forties. He had wire-framed glasses perched on a thin nose, and a tight mouth. His blue eyes were penetrating, yet still friendly and his hair was a sun-bleached blonde. Hmmm�I suppose I could do worse than this guy. Time to turn on the water works.
I let my eyes brim, the salty tears spilling over and down my cheeks. Then I buried my face in my hands and began to cry.
"Hey now, don't cry," the guy sounded alarmed. What a humanitarian. Slowly, awkwardly he patted my shoulder, obviously not wanting to get too close to me, or alarm me in any way.
"You can come with me - we'll find your mother." I sniffled a few more times for good measure as he picked me up cautiously, careful of my reaction to a stranger, and started carrying me down the street. Finally - I was getting somewhere. No more walking!
Idly I wondered where he was taking me. Probably an orphanage - or Social Services. That thought didn't bode too well with me; I'd had enough of those places thank you! Tugging on the guy's sleeve, I pointed across the road.
"What is it? Are your parents over there?" he asked. I nearly growled in frustration - this guy wasn't too bright. Obviously I was going to have to tell him. I sighed inwardly; it always felt so demeaning to talk to adults.
"Daddy works in a special building," I told him, putting on my appropriate eight-year-old voice. "I was playing with my truck, when it went outside."
Oh yeah, great story, I mentally chided myself. He's really going to believe that! Oh well - I was stuck with it now. I let my eyes fill up with tears again. "Now I can't find Daddy."
"Hey, hey - it's ok," the guy hastened to reassure me, obviously buying my lame story. "Do you know what your Daddy's building is called?"
I thought you'd never ask, Needle Nose.
"Global Studios," I informed him.
He frowned slightly, and I felt the slightest prickling of unease. He'd better know it - otherwise I'm just wasting my time, and I'd have a hard time convincing him to leave me alone.
"Global Studios?" he repeated. "Are you sure?" I nodded, wondering what the problem was. "That's a long way for you to wander. You must've been missing for a long time - I bet your daddy's worried sick about you!"
Oh - that's what his problem is. Easily fixed.
"The sun was over there when I started getting lost," I told the guy, pointing eastward. He realised that I meant I'd left in the morning. The guy wasn't a total idiot after all. My seemingly innocent answer seemed to satisfy him.
"Ok," he said. "But if it's all the same to you, I think we'll catch a cab."
Whatever you want buddy - at this point in time, I'd ride a lama to get to Global Studios.

I watched Ted rant and rave a little longer, before cutting him off. "Ted, I know how to introduce a band! I've done it a million times before!"
My producer glared at me.
"Then why do you keep stuffing it up, Paul?" he demanded bluntly. I scowled. I hated it when he talked to me like that.
"Because I'm tired!" I retorted. "It's been a long taping, I was tired to begin with, and now I just want to go home!"
Ted opened his mouth to argue, but Mikey leapt to my rescue.
"C'mon Ted. You know what he's like when he gets like this. The longer you argue with him, the longer this'll take and the grumpier he'll get. Just let him introduce the band anyway he wants." I was so relieved I could have kissed him.
Ted glared at him, then at me. "Fine," he said finally. "One more take. Just don't stuff it up this time - I'm running out of film." He stalked away.
"Thanks buddy," I said, turning to Mikey. "I was starting to wear thin."
Mikey grinned at me. Despite the long and exhausting day, he was still as energetic and full of life as he had been this morning.
"You were born wearing thin, little fella. It's a characteristic defect."
I glared at him, my gratitude quickly evaporating. Just because he got Ted off my back, didn't mean he was open to take the piss out of me with a free conscious. I open my mouth to make a witty comeback, but he cut me off.
"Don't start Paul - just introduce the band, and let's get out of here. I'm sure there's a few beers at the pub with my name on 'em." Before I could answer, he turned and left.
I sighed heavily. What a shit of a day. Oh well, I told myself. At least it'll be over soon. Yeah right.
Surprisingly though, it only took 2 more takes for me to get it right and then ten minutes to wrap up the audience. Finally - I was free!
I tugged off my tie as I wandered down the various corridors to my dressing room, already thinking about the long hot shower that I was going to have when I got home. I hoped Jo would be home - maybe we could watch a movie together or something. I turned the corner and pulled up short. There was a small crowd gathered in the hallway that led to my dressing room, blocking my way.
Now what?
"What's going on?" I asked the closest guy. As he turned around, I noticed it was Jimmy - one of the electricians who made sure all the cameras were in order.
"There's a guy wandering around looking for you Paul," Jimmy informed me. "He doesn't have a pass or anything - I have no idea how he got in. He's got a little kid with him that he says is your daughter."
I blinked.
"Mine?" I repeated, shocked. Jimmy nodded.
"I didn't know you had a kid, Paul," he said.
"Neither did I," I replied.

Talk, talk, talk. That's all adults ever seem to do. I never talked that much! My eyes wandered across the faces of the crowd clustered around me. Some of them were arguing loudly, pointing at me and gesturing wildly to each other. Some of them were watching curiously. Some of them were whispering among themselves. And some were even looking at me - the cause for the entire ruckus.
I sighed. This was getting nowhere fast. Being trapped in a child's body really sucks - if I were my real size, they'd actually listen to what I had to say. I sniffed disdainfully, looking down at the small frame that I'd been burdened with. Well, at least I didn't have to worry about my figure any more.
My legs were beginning to ache. I started to sit down on the floor, even though it looked kinda dirty, when something made me freeze. My head whipped around, and I nearly cried out for joy. It was him!
He was talking to some guy with a beer belly, looking around curiously at the crowd. He was obviously wondering what all the fuss was about. A grin started to spread across my face. I'd just have to show him in person.
I quickly ducked under the legs of the security guard looming above me, and shoved my way through the crowd. A few of them tried to stop me and push me back, but being half of everyone else's size does have it's advantages.
He was looking startled at something Beer-Belly said when he saw me. I shoved my way through the last remaining people and stopped in front of him.
My breath caught in my throat. I could hardly believe it - it was him. I was standing in right in front of him. After all this time, I was no more than a few feet away.
Everything vanished. I could focus on nothing but his eyes, boring into mine. No one else existed but us two - we were the only ones who mattered.
I hardly ever let myself get emotional any more - it seems trivial somehow - but my emotions were running wild now. I leapt forward and wrapped my arms around his waist, buried my face in his shirt and closed my eyes. Even as I did it, I knew he didn't feel what I felt. But oddly, I didn't care.
I could always tell what he was feeling - it was writen in every line in his body. Even with my eyes closed, and my face pressed against his stomach, I could almost hear his thoughts.
What the�? Who the hell is this? Confusion. Do I know her? She's acting like she knows me. Realization. Everyone's looking at us. Embarrassment, closely followed by resentment and�something else? Responsibility?
He started scolding the crowd around us - telling them that they had no reason to stand there and gawk, and to mind their own business. I didn't care; let him lecture anyone he wants to. I was in his arms, and for the first time in a long while, I felt safe again.

Ted was looking at me expectantly, but I had no idea what he expected me to say. I had no idea who the little girl was. I glanced over at her, sitting on Julie's lap. She looked to be about 7 or 8, with bright blue eyes and blonde hair that was tied back and half-hidden by a worn baseball cap, making it impossible to tell how long it was. She was wearing faded denim overalls over a plain white t-shirt, and sneakers. Her face was smudged with what looked like dirt, and her clothes were grubby. And - as she had been doing since she latched onto my waist - she was watching me. It was starting to get on my nerves.
"I've never seen her before!" I told Ted for what felt like the billionth time. Ted, somewhat understandingly I suppose, looked unconvinced.
"She sure seems to know you," he pointed out. I glared at him. Somehow he was making all this sound like it was my fault.
"She might've seen me on tv," I grated out between clenched teeth, trying not to lose my temper. I was tired, and I just wanted to go home - without a nearly acquired kid with me. Was that too much to ask?
"It's late. Maybe she should just stay with Paul tonight."
Apparently anything asked by me is too much. I whirled on Mikey.
"Me? Why me?" I demanded.
He shrugged casually. "She seems to like you, for some unknown reason." I opened my mouth to object, but he pressed on. "She trusts you Paul. Anyone can see that." I glared at him.
"She's seven fucking years old!" I snapped back. "She trusts bloody everybody!"
"Paul!" Julie scolded, covering the girl's ears. "Don't swear in front of the child!" No sooner had Julie covered the kid's ears, then the little girl twisted her head out of the way. Suddenly she seemed to not like where she was sitting. She started to scramble off Julie's lap, and although Julie tried to hold onto her, she quickly slid out of her grasp. She came over and stood in front of me, looking up. I scowled down at her. I've never been very good with kids, and I wasn't planning to start.
She reached out and took my hand, gently tugging on it. I could feel my scowl softening even as I knelt down, but it was only because my face muscles were tired, I swear. I'd been making faces a lot that day. Even though I'm not exactly what most people would call tall, I was still at eye level with her on my knees. She gazed into my eyes and for some reason, she seemed sad.
She reached out and brushed her fingertips across my face ever so lightly, her eyes still locked in mine. It was almost as though she looked straight through me, into my very being and saw me for who I really was. And I know it sounds crazy, but I felt an odd sense of recognition.
She patted me gently on the cheek, then stepped back, going over and sitting in Julie's lap again.
"Well," Mikey said quietly. "It looks like it's decided then."
I didn't bother arguing with him.

He doesn't remember me. I can see it in his eyes - he doesn't know who I truly am. Although I suppose that's not really a big surprise, as I sort of look a little different. Say one foot, six inches different. But for some reason I still thought�
I look up at him from my seat next to him in the cab, but he's staring out the window. His expression is unreadable, even to me. I study him silently, as the cab driver rambles on about nothing in the front seat, even though neither of is are listening.
He has changed - that much is obvious. Has he gone through so much while I've been gone? It had seemed like a lifetime to me, but what about him? I had often thought about it, but now I suddenly had to know. Only one thing stopped me: how the hell was I going to ask? Oh yeah, by the way Paul, I'm your dead girlfriend from eight years ago. Turns out I wasn't really meant to die, so I came back to life to find you. Only problem is, I was born as a baby and so I'm now stuck in a child's body. So, what've you been up to since I died?
Yeah right.
I realised I hadn't planned this very well. All this time that I'd been separated from him, all I could think of was getting back to him - and now that I was, I had no idea what to do.
The cab driver's voice broke through my thoughts.
"That'll be $37.50 thanks mate."
I looked up and saw we had arrived at Paul's flat. It wasn't anything flashy, but I suppose that was the look he was going for. He'd always valued his privacy, and now that he was this big-time tv star, he'd probably value it even more. Paul paid the driver and we climbed out of the cab.
"This is my place," he said to me, obviously feeling he had to say something.
"Nice," I replied as he started up the steps. He stopped and turned to look at me.
"So you do talk after all," he said, his face expressionless. I shrugged, keeping my face just as void of emotion. He frowned slightly at my reaction, but turned to unlock his front door. Dumping his keys on the table just inside the door, he lead me inside his home, flicking on light switches as he did so.
Curiously, I look around.
It was a cozy sort of place, with a couch in what I assumed to be the living room, a small kitchen with a dining table pressed up against the wall, and a hallway which probably lead to a bathroom and bedroom. Paul stopped to pick up the odd piece or two of clothing as he moved towards the hall, but otherwise the place was fairly neat. I felt mixed emotions about this- he had never been tidy when I'd known him. Had he been 'broken-in' by some woman since my death? I shoved the thought out of my mind telling myself not to go there, and wandered into the kitchen.
A small smile tugged at the corners of my mouth as soon as I entered the room; some things never change. Paul had always been the boss of the kitchen when we were together, despite his inability to cook, and I could clearly see he'd left his mark on this kitchen as well. I picked up the half empty box of tea off the table and looked at the label. He even used the same brand.
"You like tea?" Paul's voice behind me made me jump. I'd been so busy focusing on the similarities between our own kitchen and this one that I hadn't heard him come up behind me.
"You were the one who loved it Paul, not me," I whispered to myself already lost in nostalgia, looking back at the box in my hand.
"What?" he hadn't heard, thankfully. I mentally berated myself - this was no time to get sentimental. Or was it the perfect time?
I looked up at him, straight in the eye.
"No," I replied clearly. He frowned slightly, obviously uneasy with my weird behaviour , then shrugged.
"Each to their own, I suppose," he muttered.
"Getting philosophical before bedtime? Tsk tsk." I teased him. He gave me an odd look, surprised by my choice of words, but smiled despite himself.
"There's some Milo in the cupboard," he said, ignoring my jib. "I hear that kids like that sort of thing." I raised an eyebrow. Paul drank Milo? I thought he hated the stuff.
He caught my expression and laughed.
"I know what you're thinking - what's an old guy like me doing drinking Milo, right?" he asked.
"Something like that," I replied with a smile.
"It's not for me - it's for Jo," he told me. I froze, instantly feeling wary.
"Who's Jo?" I asked, trying to keep the suspicion from my voice, but Paul had already turned and headed back down the hall towards the shower, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
Okay, I told myself, taking a deep breath. So Paul knows someone named Jo, who drinks Milo and comes over often enough for him to keep some in the cupboard for them. Big Deal. Jo is a guy's name too - it could just be one of his mates.
I sighed and put Paul's tea back on the counter. Somehow my reasoning didn't seem to be working. I scrambled onto one of the small stools next to the table, and rested my head into my hands. As what usually happens as soon as I close my eyes, I was bombarded by images.

FLASH!
"You never take me on picnics any more." Pout.
"You said you hated them!" he stares at me incredulously. My eyes narrow dangerously.
"That doesn't mean you stop trying."
Recognizing the tone of my voice, his expression turns wary.
"Of course, dear. Anything you say. What're you doing tomorrow?"
FLASH!
I flop down in the chair, not caring how un-ladylike I look.
"Who was the idiot who invented work?" I demand, closing my eyes. "He should be shot - or preferably something slower and more painful." I hear Paul's low chuckle, and the soft padding of his feet as he walks up behind me. Warm hands find their way onto my shoulders, and suddenly everything slipped into blissful oblivion as he begins to knead the tense muscles in my neck. I moan softly as his gentle hands move lower to massage my shoulders.
"But if work was never invented," he breathes into my ear, his voice barely above a whisper, "then I'd have no excuse to do this." His glorious hands spread, moving from my neck back to my shoulders. I smile and murmur, "Only you can make work sound erotic Paul."
FLASH!
"Paul, you know I love your mother�"
"Thank you."
"But she's driving me insane!"
"Oh."
"How can she possibly want pink flowers? It'll clash with the blue napkins!"
"Uhh�"
"And you won't believe what she told me about the wine glasses!"
Sigh. "Something tells me you're going to tell me anyway."
"She wants wide-stem ones! Wide-stem! Can you believe it?"
"Um�no?"
"I don't care if she is your mother! I'm going to give her a piece of my mind�"
FLASH!
"I'm not going anywhere." He smiles at me gratefully, squeezing my hand.
"Promise?" he teases, although there's desperation behind his voice that he's trying to hide. I lift my other hand and gently stroke his cheek.
"Promise. I'll always be here for you." He closes his eyes briefly, letting the words sink in and qualm his fears.
"Thank you," he whispers quietly, opening his eyes again. Together we settle back and wait for the doctor to return with Paul's mum's surgery result.
FLASH!
"Excuse me? I think you dropped this." I turn to see a man about my own age, holding out a small novelty spinning top. He looks about my age, maybe a bit younger, with long unkempt black hair swept back, and sparkling hazel eyes half-hidden by a pair of thick glasses. He turns shy, as I look him up and down openly, smiling slightly when he blushes.
"Thank you. I would've missed many hours of enjoyment if you hadn't returned this valuable item to me," my tone isn't sarcastic, but it's definitely amused. He blushes an even brighter red, and I laugh delightedly at having been the cause.
I take the little spinning top from him, and grab his hand as he turns to leave.
"C'mon," I grin at him, trying to convince him to stay. "It's a Christmas party. Just the place to meet new people."
His smile is uncertain as I haul him to the dance floor, tucking the spinning top into my pocket.
FLASH!

I open my eyes quickly, trying to force back the swamp of mixed emotions coursing through me. I shudder under the stress of the visions, trying to force them back into my memory where they belong.
The Earth sprite had warned me of this.
"Made not for two memories, the mind was. Haunt you, visions of the past may."
Even after the wave of confusing emotions that swamp me after visions, a smile teased the corners of my lips as I recalled its words. Even now, after eight years replaying that conversation over and over in my head, I still found it amusing to note that the Earth's "essence" talked like Yoda from Star Wars. Maybe George Lucas wasn't as far off his rocker as everyone had first thought.
Exhaustion washed over me, and I suddenly found it very hard to keep my eyes open.
"That's another thing wrong with kid's bodies," I mumbled to myself as I climbed to my feet and stumbled back into the room where we had first come in, and collapsed on the couch. "They wear out too easily."
But despite my annoyance at my body's failure to keep up with my pace, I felt an almost over-whelming sense of peace.
"Must be 'cause of Paul," I mutter unintelligently as I slowly drift off into slumber.