Chapter One
October 30th, 2016

TIME SEEMED TO stand still on the thirtieth.

That sounded like a fairly ironic statement, perhaps, as time did stand still in Margaret's eyes.  However, on the thirtieth, there was always something off.  Something different. Something new.

So far she hadn't spotted that familiar face she always seemed to run into n the thirtieth.  It seemed to occur every year, but she never happened to get their phone number, or even remember their name.  All she knew was that this was the date it'd happen.  Always the thirtieth.

Her scuffed, pointy boots dug into the crunchy yellow leaves on the pavement as she clutched her umber purse to her side.  The crackle they made when she dug her heels into them soothed her.

Margaret's floor-length, blood red coat just barely hovered over the tattered leaves as she glided forward, forward, forward, until she finally reached the restaurant. In slow motion, her slim fingers unhooked the black buttons held on by weary strings, starting at her chest and heading downwards.

Folding it up, Margaret rested it on her forearm like a waiter would a napkin.  Her feet were already aching from the dreadful heels, but she couldn't go back now.  Ask for Neal Jones, her friend, Emily, had informed her. He's a friend of a friend's coworker, so I don't know how good looking he is, or if he's boyfriend material. I'd just hope for the best. I mean, what is there to lose?

A lot, actually. Margaret had not had a relationship in years, because when they gained wrinkles and white hair and arthritis, she always lost the person she had once loved, the person that had looked her age. Not everyone stayed young, which was something she sometimes forgot. She was to always stay exactly the same. It was always the same.

She'd recently told Emily that she'd been alive for over ninety years, and it was hard to swallow. Every few decades, Margaret would share her secret to someone she grew close to.  Mostly just to warn herself not to get too close to them, because she knew how these things always ended.

She snorted.  Jones. What a generic name.

"Jones, please," Margaret informed the woman holding a seating chat with a light cough, eyeing the room for this 'Neal Jones' person. Brown hair, green eyes, and nearly six feet tall, according to Emily's description to him.

"Uh, table for two? Right this way," the woman ordered, guiding her through the sea of ironed shirts and little black dresses.

The place was much fancier than she had originally thought. Wearing jeans and a blouse now felt very awkward.

Margaret felt a growing pit in her stomach. Love was not for her. She didn't know why she agreed to this.

She stopped in her tracks. "It's you."

Same brunette hair, same jade eyes, and same light scruff dotting his chin as the past ninety years. How had she not made the connection?

"I like the haircut," he mused.

The woman nervously placed menus in front of them. "Megan will take your order in a minute."

"Every thirtieth," Margaret mumured. "Why? Out of all the places, why did we have to meet again on a blind date?"

She slid into her side of the booth and rested her coat on the end.  Words were flying through her brain, trying to connect, attempting to form a cohesive sentence. She'd never really gotten the chance to sit down and talk one-on-one with this man in years.

"Out of all the questions, that's the first one you ask?" he inquired, holding up the menu with his elbows on the table.  She couldn't see his face.  "My first question would be, how do you look exactly the same age that I first saw you, ninety years ago?"

She threw her head back and laughed, her red ringlets of hair tickling her chin. "I could ask you the same thing."

"So we're both clueless towards the age thing?" the man pondered. "Huh."

"Well, what about why we always find each other today? Do you have an answer to that?"

He seemed to think, tapping a finger on his chin and wiggling his nose.  "Nope.  That's unexplainable, too."

The waitress came over, pulling out a pad of paper. "And what would you like to drink?"

"A lemonade for me, thanks," Margaret replied.

"Water, thank you," the man responded.

The waitress left their table.

"I can never remember your name," Margaret observed, tilting her head. "You'd think after ninety days across the board of ninety years I'd know your name was Neal Jones by now."

"And I didn't quite catch your name the ninety times, either," Neal Jones agreed. "But perhaps this time. . ."

"My name's Margaret," she smiled, holding out her hand across the table. "Margaret Levartemit.  I'm glad we've finally met."

"Finally, properly met," Jones whispered.  "It's about time."

His large hand was enclosed in hers briefly and she felt her heart constrict against its cage of time.  She pulled her hand daintily back.

Never did she think she'd be on a blind date with the man she'd stayed up late because of, staring at the ceiling, trying to piece together his face.

The drinks came and the pair ordered their dishes, neither of them having an inkling of how to start a conversation with the other.

"I — I tried to search for you a few times, but you were always impossible to find.  All the times you'd given me your number, I'd end up losing it.  I'm sorry, I'm just very forgetful, and—"

"It happens," Jones shrugged.  "I could never seem to find you, either.  We're both forgetful, apparently."

He tried to find her?

A plate of steak tips were set in front of Margaret and she began to eat, eyeing Jones. 

"Is this a date? Should we even call it that?"

Jones raised an eyebrow. "Depends. What do you want it to be?"

She closed her eyes. "I'd like to think of it more as an investigation than anything else, right now."

"Investigation? Why investigation?" he questioned, crinkling his nose.

"Well, I just thought we could finally get to the bottom of this. You know, come together, figure out why we're alive, why we're young, why we meet only on the thirtieth, all of those questions," she said as she squirmed in her side of the booth.

Jones glanced at her through the corner of his eyes. "I like that idea.  Team up.  Two minds are better than one, sort of thing."

"Yeah, you could say that."

It was silence while they chewed their food, and as the check was on its way, Margaret quietly piped up, "It gets lonely, doesn't it?"

He didn't need to ask her what she was talking about.  "All the time," he whispered.  "I've always tried to reassure myself, saying, 'this time, if I get attached to someone, maybe I'll grow old with them, just this once' but I never do. I don't know why I have this fate, but if it's a punishment for something I did in a past life, I hope that soon my debt will be paid."

She fell quiet again.

The check was given and the money transaction completed.  Jones stretched and stepped out from the booth, grinning at Margaret.  "Did you enjoy this da— investigation?"

"I did, thank you very much," she softly replied, grabbing her coat and slipping it on. He linked arms with her and they walked out of the restaurant.

The night was chilly and she was glad she brought her thick coat. The leaves whipped around in the wind and the car lights whizzing by were some of the only ways to see Jones' lit up face.

She led him to her car and he walked her over, unhooking his arm and stuffing his hands in his jeans pockets.  "This was fun."

"Definitely," Margaret shyly responded, tucking back a strand of her blood-red hair behind her ear.

Suddenly he was leaning in, closer, closer, her cheek already hot with anticipation and her hand beginning to shake.  She clenched her knees and suddenly felt her immortal buddy's soft lips on her pale cheek. She felt a small grin creep up on her face, her hand darting to feel the invisible kiss.

Jones gasped, clenching his head in his hands, stumbling back a few steps.  He groaned, his eyebrows taut and his jaw twitching.

"Holy shit, Jones, what's wrong with you?" Margaret uttered, grabbing hold of his shoulders.

His voice was rattled and croaking, like he'd just ran a half mile.  His half-lit face was ghostly in the frigid night.

"I — I just had this vision.  This memory, I think.  Of us.  But I don't think I — I don't think I remember it happening, exactly.  It feels like this weird dream, and I don't . . ." his words trailed off.  "You — you were wearing the same red coat. It was the same length it is now, just barely above the ground, but more — more vibrant in color.   Your face is the exact same coloring and the same shape and the same everything, everything about the situation was the same as any other October thirtieth, except we were — we were kissing.  But — but we were also . . . we were also crying.  My tears were dripping onto your coat and you were holding me like you've held onto me a million times before and it felt so real, so real, and I don't know why, but I think . . . I think it was."

a/n

HOW WAS THAT.

THIS IS PROBABLY THE SHITTIEST THING IVE EVER WRITTEN SO FAR BUT I NEEDED IT TO BE PUBLISHED BEFORE OCTOBER THIRTY FIRST SO PRAY WITH ME IT GETS PUBLISHED BEFORE THEN. IM DOWN TO MINUTES.  FOUR MINUTES UNTIL IT IS NO LONGER OCTOBER THIRTIETH FOR ME. damn am i a procrastinator or what.

whats your thoughts o the plot, characters, the direction things are headed? any predictions?

HALLOWEEN IS TOMORROW (technically today, because rn as i edit this it is 12:07) HAPPY HALLOWEEN. WHAT ARE YOU BEING DRESSED UP AS?  my sister and her two friends are dressing up as three hogwarts houses so i was like fine, i'll go as a ravenclaw to even it out.  its gonna be LIT

please leave a comment to let me know how it was, and leave a vote if you liked it!

ps. sorry for grammar issues imma look back and edit this chapter later my thumb hurts so typing is rough and i was rushing to finish the chapter and GOSH this us such a bad chapter lol not a great way to start off a book but i couldn't wait a whole 'nother year

pps. tell me if you see any easter eggs, "coincidences", or just make a good prediction and/or amazing comment and i'll give the first person a dedication the next chapter!!

alright, goals for the chapter (personal goals, milestones i want to reach)

GOALS:
30 reads
10 votes
20 comments