A/N: Hello, and thank you for reading! This is another attempt at song-fic, and it is a bit different because all the stories are written in first person. Please let me know what you think. :)

I Let the Music Speak: Elsanna Edition

Fancy by Bobbie Gentry

The chill of a New Orleans' early morning brushed past my bare shoulders as I stood on a sketchy street in one of the Big Easy's most disreputable neighborhoods. Anyone who took a good look at me would know why I was there; my clothes, my makeup, my shoes, they all spoke to the fact that I was trying to sell my body to make a living. I didn't want to, necessarily, but a girl had to eat, and since my momma had kicked me out of the house for being a degenerate, I really didn't have much choice. My high school diploma hadn't done much to get me work, and after two weeks of scraps, cold sidewalks and little else, I knew I had to try something new before I starved.

Unfortunately, though, this something new didn't seem to be working out either. Perhaps I had been told wrong by the ladies I'd consulted, or maybe the fellas just weren't all that interested, but I hadn't had any sort of customer all night. Truth be told, I was mostly relieved, but my growling stomach was sorely disappointed. Sighing at what seemed to be another failure, I took the shawl from around my waist and put it around my cold shoulders, deciding that I'd had enough for one night, and I was going to go back to my pallet behind the warehouse to get some sleep. I could always try again later on tonight. The sound of a car behind me caught my attention, though, so I turned, gaping in shock at the long, black limousine that had pulled up. My heart clenched - whether in fear, anticipation or hope, I couldn't tell - and I stood there frozen as the driver got out and opened the door for whomever it was that was riding in the back.

To my further shock, it was a woman who emerged. True, it was plain to see she was older than I was, but mercy, she was beautiful, with long, flowing black hair and mysterious eyes that were almost as dark as her hair. The obviously-expensive dress she was wearing was very flattering without being scandalous, and I knew without a doubt I was staring. I tried to look away; it was this sort of interest in women that had gotten me kicked out of the house in the first place, after all; but she was so beautiful that I couldn't take my eyes off of her. The woman chuckled at my expression with a knowing smile before extending a hand for me to shake. "The name's Fancy, darlin'," she told me with a native Louisiana drawl and a genuine smile that reached her eyes. "I was hopin' that I might be able to have a chat with you. I wouldn't take too much of your time, and I'd pay you, of course," she offered.

"P-pay me?" I sputtered, surprised enough to speak when her warm hand encircled my cold one.

"You're out here on this street to make money, ain't you?" she asked, the smile turning into a gently-teasing smirk as her right eyebrow rose in a speculative expression.

"Well, yes, ma'am, but no one has approached me all night, and then a lady comes and offers to pay me to talk, and, and…" I rambled, knowing I was rambling but seemingly unable to stop myself.

"…and you are a talker, so it's going to work out just fine," Miss Fancy interrupted me with amusement. "Now come on, honey, my car is a lot warmer and more comfortable than this sidewalk. I promise that all we will do is talk," she said, letting go of my hand and opening the car door behind her. I looked at Miss Fancy, and then at the car, knowing that I could be walking into a bad situation. But then again, my current situation wasn't exactly good, and even in our short acquaintance, Miss Fancy had been nothing but lovely to me. I hesitated, still undecided, when my stomach gurgled loudly enough for both of us to hear. "How about I throw in breakfast?" Miss Fancy coaxed. "I know a very nice place with lovely owners, and we'd be in a public place with lots of other people around."

The offer of food caused whatever resolve I had to crumble. "That would be lovely, ma'am," I said softly, getting into the car. After a word to the driver, Miss Fancy got in after me and closed the door, and we got on our way.

Dull grey pavement and rough, ugly streets soon gave way to green trees and smooth pavement as the limousine glided along. Within minutes, we were on the "good" side of town, specifically along the river. I only knew of one restaurant up this way, and I was puzzled, because it was one of the fanciest places in New Orleans. It wasn't the type of place I could see serving breakfast. After a short drive more, the car stopped, and sure enough, the place we stopped in front of was Tiana's Palace. Miss Fancy noted my disconcerted look. "What, sugar?" she asked with a smirk. "This place not to your liking?"

"No, ma'am," I said instantly, ashamed that I might have offended her, and my shame led me to babble, as it often did. "I adore the food here. When we could afford it, my family always came here, and um, these last few weeks when I had no food, when I scrounged enough for trolley fare, I would come up here. Miss Louisa and Miss Carrie Rey are the sweetest ladies in the world, and they pass out their leftover food at night, and sometimes that's the only thing I had to eat for a couple of days," I explained in a rush.

"Then why the look?" Miss Fancy asked teasingly as the door opened and we got out.

"I didn't think a place this nice was open for breakfast," I answered.

"It's not," Miss Fancy confirmed with a laugh. "But I know some people in the kitchen, and I've been friends with all of the Winfreys and LaBouffs for years, so we will be all right. Come on, honey, time's a-wasting, and I can smell the beignets from here."

As soon as she mentioned it, I could smell those doughy clouds of happiness too, and I eagerly followed her as we went around back and knocked at the kitchen door. An older black lady with kind eyes opened the door, and when she saw Miss Fancy, her smile widened and deep dimples emerged. "Miss Fancy Gentry!" she exclaimed. "I was wondering if we would see you today. Get yourself and your guest in here."

She wrapped Miss Fancy in a hug, which was vigorously returned, and when the two ladies parted, Miss Fancy gestured to me. "Miss Tiana, please meet…" she trailed off, realizing I hadn't given her my name.

"Anna," I offered immediately, not seeing any point in lying, before the name Miss Fancy had used to address the nice lady hit me like the proverbial ton of bricks. "Miss Tiana?" I yelped. "As in the Tiana of Tiana's Palace?"

"One and the same, honey," Tiana confirmed with a smile. "My daughters mostly run the place now, but I do still show up from time to time."

"It is such a pleasure to meet you, ma'am," I gushed, completely unable to help it. "I've always loved your food, and you are such an inspiration."

"Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, too, Miss Anna," Tiana said warmly. "Now have a seat and I'll bring y'all some fresh beignets. Would you like anything else?" I shook my head, not wanting to be rude by seeming greedy. The Palace's beignets were legendary and they would do me well enough.

Miss Fancy, however, shook her own head at my refusal as we sat down at the small table situated in the corner of the kitchen. "From what I gather, the poor child has been on the streets for some time, Miss Tiana," Miss Fancy stated. "If you have something heartier to go with those, we'd be much obliged. I know at least one of your cooks needs practice cooking an egg." The last sentence was given with a knowing smirk and a glance at a cook in the back, and Miss Tiana's face took on a chiding look.

"Now you hush, Miss Fancy," Tiana ordered. "I've never had a better apprentice cook and you know it. I'll get those beignets and some coffee and then we'll see what else we can whip up." She left for a brief minute before setting down two plates, a pot of coffee, and a platter of the most delicious-smelling pastry I had ever smelled. In a flash, she was gone again, this time bustling over to the cook that Miss Fancy had been talking about, and after a glance our way, the lady cook smiled and started pulling out ingredients.

It took all my willpower not to forgo the plate I was given and just pull the whole platter to my side of the table. Somehow, though, I managed to restrain myself, taking two and putting them on my plate. After Miss Fancy had gotten hers and poured us both some coffee, I figured I had been polite enough and devoured what was on my plate. Miss Fancy laughed and piled several more onto my plate, and within an embarrassingly-short amount of time, those were gone too. Miss Fancy smiled at me and took a sip of her coffee. "Well, now that we got some food into you, how about we start that chat I mentioned before?" she offered casually.

"Yes, ma'am," I said quietly, my joy at having real food somewhat diminished by my apprehension of what this conversation was all about.

Miss Fancy got right to the point. "Why were you out there on that street this morning, honey?" she asked bluntly. "Is it because it's an occupation that you truly want or are there other circumstances?"

"Other circumstances," I answered immediately, my penchant for honesty coming through as it always did. As I considered the question more carefully, though, I realized what Miss Fancy had truly asked, and I was shocked, to put it mildly. "Wait. What?" I questioned. "A woman could want to sell herself for money?"

Miss Fancy shrugged. "Of course, sugar," she answered unconcernedly. "It may be 1970, and us women may have more options than we used to, but we are still very limited in a lot of ways. One of a woman's most powerful assets is her body, and if any woman wants to use that body to get ahead, then I would support her choice to the ends of the earth. It's how I made my fortune, after all. But, if a woman is being compelled to use her body to survive because she's got no other choices, well then, I don't think that's right, and since I have the means to do something about it, I try to do something about it."

I mulled that over, but the first question that popped out of my uncouth mouth was not the one that I had intended. Instead, "Wait, you were a prostitute?" came out of my mouth, and within seconds my face was burning with shame at my rudeness.

Much to my surprise, Miss Fancy chuckled. "You could call it that," she allowed. "But I would classify myself as more of a courtesan."

Still embarrassed but feeling more hopeful with her sanguine response, my curiosity got the better of me. "What's the difference?" I asked interestedly.

The chuckle became a laugh. "I only slept with men with lots of money, sugar," Miss Fancy said frankly and bawdily, and my blush returned to its bright-red hue.

Miss Tiana picked that moment to bring over the rest of our food, and she got a gander at my tomato-like face. She frowned at Miss Fancy as she put down our plates. "Quit scandalizing the poor child, Fancy," she ordered. "Let her eat and then ask her what you brought her here to ask."

"Yes, ma'am," Miss Fancy said respectfully, but her mirth at my embarrassment was still dancing in her eyes. When Miss Tiana had left, she regarded me as I started to dig into the delicious-looking omelet that had been placed before me. "So, what's your story, honey?" she asked sympathetically. "Why were you on that street this morning?"

I slowly swallowed the mouthful of eggs I had been chewing on. "My momma says I'm evil, and she kicked me out of the house," I mumbled. "I wasn't able to find work, and it was the only thing I could think of to make some money."

"You're evil?" Miss Fancy asked incredulously. "Even though I've known you for little over an hour, that seems pretty damn near impossible. What on earth made her say that?"

"I'd rather not say," I deflected, not wanting to disappoint Miss Fancy or Miss Tiana, who I saw had taken an interest in our conversation. They had both been so nice to me that I couldn't bear the thought of them turning on me and kicking me out like my momma had. "I don't want you to hate me," I whispered, unwanted tears springing to my eyes.

"There are very few people in this life I can bring myself to hate, darlin', and I can't see you doing anything to make yourself one of them," Miss Fancy stated.

"But you don't know what I am," I protested, my voice still a whisper and the tears coming down more steadily now.

With my head bowed, I didn't see Miss Fancy move, but before I knew it, warm, surprisingly-strong arms lifted me off of my chair. Within seconds I was being held, and without thinking, I cried into the shoulder of Miss Fancy's very expensive jacket. "Shh, honey," Miss Fancy soothed. "You aren't anything that I haven't seen before. I will still like you. And besides, we have a lot in common, you and me. My Mama kicked me out, too."

I raised my head from Miss Fancy's shoulder at this revelation. "She did?" I managed though my tears. "Was it because you chose to be a courtesan?"

Miss Fancy chuckled, but the laughter had a sardonic edge. "No, sugar, she kicked me out so I could become a courtesan," she replied.

My tears stopped at that unexpected answer, and I looked at Miss Fancy with what I knew had to be a dumbfounded look. Miss Fancy smiled and wiped the few remaining tears from my cheeks. "I know that sounds awful, and there's a lot of self-righteous hypocrites that would criticize my Mama, but we were dirt-poor, and I had no other prospects. My Pa had run off, and my Mama was real sick, and my baby sister was slowly starving to death. Mama bought me a satin dancing dress, which was trimmed with red velvet, and then she showed me how to do my hair and makeup. After she gave me this locket, she told me to 'just be nice to the gentlemen, Fancy, and they'll be nice to you' before she turned me out." Miss Fancy pulled a heart-shaped locket out from under her blouse, and on its surface was etched the words "To Thine Own Self Be True". I looked at the locket, and then back at Miss Fancy, and she smiled sadly. "I never saw her again. The welfare people came and took the baby, and Mama died soon after. I had started my career by then, so I didn't go back. But when I heard that she died, I swore that I was going to do as she asked. I was going to 'move uptown', as she put it, and I was going to be a lady. I couldn't see spending the rest of my life with my head hung down in shame. Yes, I might have been born just plain white trash, but my name was Fancy, after all. I struggled for a bit, but I figured it out, and after 'while, I had charmed a king, a congressman, and the occasional aristocrat. I became a lady, invested my money well, and now no longer have to do anything I am not inclined to do. I never once blamed my Mama for anything, and I am proud of the life I've had, but the one thing I regret is my lack of choices. I want to make sure girls like yourself have those choices."

"But what if I don't deserve those choices?" I asked, my voice small as the self-doubt started to creep back in.

"Well, if you tell me why your momma kicked you out, I can tell you if you do or you don't," Miss Fancy coaxed. I looked down, still hesitant. Miss Fancy took her free hand and lifted my chin. "I've just spent the last few minutes telling you that I earned most of my money on my back. I won't judge you, honey; I promise," she promised.

Figuring that Miss Fancy had a point there, I took a deep breath to answer. "I developed unnatural feelings for my best friend," I confessed. "I thought that she shared them, and I tried to kiss her, but she slapped me and told our mommas. When I admitted to my momma it was my fault, and that I had felt this way for a while, she kicked me out and told me never to come back." I glanced up tentatively at Miss Fancy, but to my surprise, there was no anger or disgust in her expression. There was nothing but sympathy and affection there, and I started to cry again, this time in relief.

Miss Fancy gathered me back up in her arms, and I cried some more until my tears ran dry. Miss Fancy gave me an affectionate kiss on the forehead before putting me back into my chair and moving back towards her own. I pulled my now-cold omelet back towards myself so start eating again when it was suddenly yanked out from under my hands. I looked up to see Miss Tiana standing there, holding the plate, and my heart sank at her glowering expression. She had heard, obviously, and now she didn't want a degenerate like myself in her kitchen. "I'm sorry, ma'am," I said hurriedly. "I'll be out of here as soon as possible."

The glowering expression melted instantly, and Miss Tiana looked at me with a quizzical look. "What on Earth are you on about, honey?" she asked in a puzzled tone.

"I can tell from your face that you heard what I told Miss Fancy," I answered, "and I'm sorry that someone like me is your restaurant when you don't want me here."

At my words, Miss Tiana set down the plate, pulled up a chair and sat down, making sure that she was facing me. She took my hands in hers. "You are right, sugar," she said quietly. "I am very angry and disgusted, but you misunderstood. I'm not angry or disgusted with you; I'm angry and disgusted with your momma. To throw out your own flesh and blood over whom they love is practically the stupidest thing I have ever heard, and it made me so mad that it must have shown on my face."

Seeing she was telling the truth by the way she was looking at me, only one question came to mind. "Then why did you take away my food?" I asked plaintively, and I heard Miss Fancy laugh and say "I knew she had her priorities straight" under her breath at my question.

"It was cold, honey," Tiana answered with distaste. "And I don't allow my guests to eat food that is anything less than perfect. I was going to reheat it for you."

"Really? That's the only reason?" I asked.

"Really," Miss Tiana confirmed with a smile, picking up the plate again as she stood. "Now listen to what Miss Fancy is going to offer, and I'll be back," she encouraged as she went towards one of the ovens.

When she had my full attention again, Miss Fancy smiled. "Now then, sugar, to this offer that I've been trying to talk to you about since we got here," she began. "Like I mentioned, the way I got my start was not my choice, and I want to help other ladies to have choices. To that end, here's my offer. If you want to continue down the courtesan career path, then I will help you. I still know people in the business, and we can get you properly set up so that you have only the best clients that pay the most money. You would always be safe, and any money that you would earn would be yours to keep. The only requirement would be that you would hire someone to manage your funds, and I could recommend one of the best. Miss Lottie can make a penny into a million dollars if you give her enough time."

"Miss Lottie?" I questioned. "Miss Lottie LaBouff? The society lady? Why would she take the time to help out someone like me?"

"Because she's actually one of the sweetest people in New Orleans," Tiana answered, putting my now-hot food in front of me. "And she loves a good long-term project. It took her twenty years to get me to realize how much I was in love with her, but she did it, and we've been happy for the last twenty-five," Tiana concluded, her smile growing loving as she thought of her wife. She gave me a wink before leaving us to our privacy.

After a beat, I looked at Miss Fancy. "Did Miss Tiana just say what I thought she said?" I asked, just to make sure.

"Well, honey, if you think she said she was in love with and married to a woman, and thus she is just like you in that regard, then yes, yes you did," Miss Fancy confirmed with a smirk.

"Well, all right, then," I said, after a moment. A glance down to collect my thoughts made me see my plate, and I picked up my fork, determined not to let this delicious food get away from me again even if I was thinking.

"So, darlin', do you want to be a courtesan?" Miss Fancy asked as I demolished my omelet. "Or is there something out there that interests you more?"

I swallowed and hesitated for a moment before answering. "I don't want to be a courtesan," I admitted.

"Then what interests you?" Miss Fancy prompted.

"I want to be a teacher or a pediatrician. Maybe one of those people who helps out children by talking them through their problems," I said in a rush before I lost the nerve to reveal some of my deepest-held desires.

"So, you want to work with kids in some capacity," Miss Fancy summarized, and I nodded eagerly. "Well, all of those things you mentioned require a college degree," she pointed out.

"I know," I answered mournfully. That had been the main reason I hadn't been able to pursue any of those pathways.

"Are your grades good enough to get you into college?" Miss Fancy asked.

"For the most part," I replied truthfully. "I had some trouble with English. I was fine in my math and science classes though."

"Well, then, here's my new offer," Miss Fancy stated. "We get ahold of your transcripts and see what your grades are. If they are good enough, then we can get you enrolled here somewhere in the city. If not, then you'll go to junior college for a year or two to get your grades up, then you'll transfer to some place. You'll stay with me and my family regardless, and you'll be expected to earn your keep by doing well in school and helping out around the house. They'll be absolutely no distractions like parties, booze or men." Miss Fancy paused and cracked a smile. "Well, in your case, women," she amended quickly. "When you graduate, you are free to do whatever it is you like, but you have to promise to help out other people like I helped you out. Deal?" she inquired.

Completely stunned, I did nothing but sit there in complete silence for several minutes. Miss Fancy waited patiently, taking bites from her beignet and sipping her coffee as she waited for me to come around. Finally, after my thoughts had chased themselves around and around and come to a conclusion, I spoke. "What's the catch?" I demanded.

Miss Fancy laughed merrily. "That was the question I had hoped I would hear," she cheered. "It shows that you are smart enough not to take things at face value. But, the answer is: there is no catch. I have more money than God thanks to Miss Lottie, and I want to help you out. It really is as simple as that."

I thought some more, about my life and about what Miss Fancy was offering. Deciding that there wasn't much to lose, I made my decision. "Then I accept your offer," I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt.

Miss Fancy's smile got even wider. "Then welcome to the family, darlin'," she said warmly. "And speaking of family, there's someone here you ought to meet. Elsie! She said yes!" Miss Fancy hollered. Immediately, the cook who had prepared my breakfast looked up, and with a shy smile, she came over. "Miss Anna, meet my baby sister, Elsa," Miss Fancy requested. "When I had earned enough money and got myself a house, I got her back from the welfare people."

"Pleasure to make your acquaintance," she said genteelly, extending her hand for me to shake.

I stuck my hand out on pure instinct, but truth be told, the rest of my mind wasn't really functioning. Before me was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen, even rivaling Miss Fancy, and in spite of being her sister, she was almost the polar opposite of the older woman. Where Miss Fancy had the darkest black hair, Miss Elsa had blond hair that was so blond it was almost white. Where Miss Fancy's eyes were dark brown, almost black, Miss Elsa's eyes were of the lightest blue, and they sparkled even in the odd lighting of the kitchen. I was instantly smitten, the fact of which was not lost on Miss Fancy.

"Elsa here was the one that convinced me to help you," Miss Fancy interjected slyly, causing us both to startle.

"You did?" I asked, baffled as to why. Me being me, I asked. "Why?" was my follow-up question.

Elsa blushed, and she looked towards the floor shyly. "I, um, saw you when you came to get food after we closed. You seemed so alone and in need of help, but you always had a smile and were so thankful. I guess you were just someone I wanted to get to know, and someone I wanted to help." She lifted her eyes and held my gaze, and I don't know if it was just wishful thinking, but I could have sworn I saw a bit of the same smitten look I knew I was wearing. We looked at each other shyly for a while until Miss Fancy cleared her throat.

"It looks like we might have to reconsider the 'no women' policy if y'all are living under the same roof," she said wryly, causing both of us to look away from each other and blush harder.

"I, um, I have to get back to work," Elsa stammered. "I'll see you both at home," she said softly, giving me a small smile as she scampered back to her place.

Miss Fancy smirked. "Bye, Elsie," she called after her. "Now, sugar," she said, turning to me. "Are you finished with your breakfast? We need to get going. You need some better clothes, and we need to get you moved in and settled."

"Yes, ma'am; I'm done," I answered, my mind whirling a bit from all that had happened to me that morning, including meeting the girl of my dreams. Miss Fancy nodded, and after we bade goodbye to Miss Tiana, we left though the back door of the kitchen to start my new life.

Jolene by Dolly Parton

I sighed, looking down at the crisp, white sheet of unblemished notebook paper that lay on my desk. Today had been torture, plain and simple, and being the introvert I was, my first impulse was to put my feelings down on paper. I sighed again, remembering my best friend fawning over that smug asshole who was absolutely no good for her. I knew Jolene had no romantic interest in me, but why did she have to pick that entitled prick Hans? Why couldn't she have at least chosen Kristoff, the super nice guy who treated her well and was almost as in love with her as I was?

I huffed in frustration and then picked up my pen. At first I thought I was going to write some lengthy diatribe about society, its expectations of women, and the patent unfairness of heteronormativity, but instead what flowed from the ballpoint was a simple, beseeching, somewhat-rhyming letter to my best friend.

"My one and only Jolene," I wrote. "I am begging of you, please, don't take a man, especially just because you are you, and you can have anyone that you want. Your beauty is beyond compare, with flaming locks of auburn hair, with ivory skin and eyes of turquoise green. Your smile is like a breath of spring, your voice is soft like summer rain, and I am so in love with you. I talk about you in my sleep and there's nothing I can do to keep from crying when I call your name. I can easily understand how you could easily have any man that you want, but you don't know what you mean to me, Jolene."

After a pause to think, my pen returned to the paper, and I continued to write. "You could have your choice of men, but I could never love again; you're the only one for me, Jolene. I had to have this talk with you; my happiness depends on you and whatever you decide to do. I love you. Your best friend, Dolly," I concluded.

I read my letter over and over, and now that the words had been put to paper, I felt better than I had in a long time. I folded the sheet precisely and put it in an envelope. I even addressed it, though I knew had absolutely no intention of actually mailing it. With a contemplative smile, I went to bed, still dreaming of my beautiful Jolene.

The next morning, I woke refreshed and ready to face the day, only to realize that with all my angst, I hadn't put my phone on its charger and it had died in the night, meaning that my alarm hadn't gone off at its usual time. I was late, and I despised being late, so I ran around my room like a madwoman, getting ready and gathering my things. The letter lay on my desk forgotten, and I dashed off for school without giving it a second thought. I didn't think about it again until I came home from school, and as I was getting a soda out of the fridge, my mom cheerfully told me she'd mailed it.

"You did what?" I choked out in a strangled whisper.

"I mailed it," my mom repeated, proud that she'd helped me out. "When I went to get your towels to wash, I saw it lying on your desk. I figured you had just forgotten it in your rush this morning, and since I was going to post office anyway, I put a stamp on it, and I mailed it."

My heart sank with a sickening feeling that I really couldn't describe. I couldn't be mad at my mom; she really was trying to help, but she had just completely ruined the best friendship I had ever had. "Um, thanks," I said weakly, absentmindedly taking the soda I still held with me as I went to disappear, possibly forever, into my bedroom.

The next day passed in agony as I tried to calculate how long it would take the letter to get to Jolene. Our town was good-sized but not that big, and I figured that I had two days at most before everything came crashing down on my head. The slightly-hysterical part of me had a thought of hiding out by Jolene's mailbox and trying to intercept it, but practical me knew they had a locking mailbox and trying that plan was going to fail and leave me with even more to explain. Another day passed, but nothing between me and Jolene changed when we saw each other, so I figured I had one more day. I was wrong, because a visibly-distraught Jolene showed up on my doorstep about 8 o'clock that night.

"Um, hi?" I stuttered after my mom had let her in and she had charged up the stairs and barged into my room.

"Did you write this?" Jolene demanded, showing me my letter.

Two days of stress and stress-induced insomnia caught up with me, and my mouth started working before my mind could catch up. "It's in my handwriting, it's got my return address on it, and I signed it 'Love, Dolly'," I pointed out sarcastically. "Who the hell else would have written it?"

My response stopped Jolene short before her eyes narrowed and she glared at me. She held out the letter like a dagger, and with her eyes still narrowed, she advanced on me. "Quit being an asshole," she warned. "Did you write and actually mean these words? Are you really in love with me?" she asked.

Literally backed into a corner, I swallowed nervously and looked around before her glare deepened and forced me to speak. "Yes," I admitted at last. "I've been in love with you for like, forever, and it was sort of killing me to see you with Hans. I wrote down what I was feeling, and my mom mailed it trying to be nice. I never meant for you to see it, but I meant every word."

The glare slowly disappeared, and the letter slowly lowered. Jolene took a moment to consider me before she launched herself at me, pinning me against the wall and kissing me senseless. It took a second for me to comprehend what was happening, but when I did, my arms circled around her waist automatically, and she reciprocated by putting her arms around my neck. We kissed until we ran out of oxygen, but even then, we barely came apart as our breath came in short puffs and pants.

"So, you don't hate me?" I ventured tentatively, and Jolene let out a breathless laugh.

"No, you goof," she chided, kissing my nose. "I've been trying to get you to notice me as more than a friend for a least a year. The whole thing with Hans was just to make you jealous."

"Well, it worked," I muttered embarrassedly.

"And I'm glad, you stinker," Jolene declared before kissing me again. I kissed her back until something occurred to me, and I pulled away with a chuckle.

"What?" Jolene asked me with a smile.

"I think I am going to owe my mom for a really long time," I said, returning her smile.

"Yeah, I think we both are," Jolene agreed, giving me another kiss.

We Were Here by BOY

I stared at the calendar on the wall, my eyes searching for a particular date: November 14th. It was today, the day that my Elsa had been taken away from me. When I found it, I sighed and turned around, ready to start the pilgrimage that I always undertook on this, the dreariest of days.

After I left my small, unremarkable apartment, the weather seemed to echo my mood. It was grey and overcast, with a chill in the air that seemed capable of freezing people to their very souls if they lingered too long. The street offered no relief to the bleak weather, and it was a stark contrast to when I walked these streets like a queen with my Elsa on my arm. Our faces were always in the wind, letting it blow our hair back as we remained determinedly-oblivious to the growing windburn. Everywhere we went, we made the city sing "forever young " with us, even as we had our fingers crossed. Even now, even with her gone, I believe that when the city sleeps, it dreams of us. Yeah, it still does.

As I walked, I kept thinking of the few short months we had together, when her mother, an officer in the Navy, had been stationed in my small coastal town. We had been very young and naïve; I was old enough to know that now, but it had still been love, of that I was certain. Love changes shapes and it glows in many shades, but my love for Elsa was something that even years later had never changed.

I knew that my love for her wouldn't be gone as long as her echo resonated. I found her everywhere when I took my walks through town; that was how the magic of our brief relationship lasted. It was only little things, footmarks and fingerprints, a treasure hunt through town, but it was full of evidence, because our personal monuments were all around me. Everything was different; the paint was wet and all colors were new, but if I looked carefully, I could see us shining through.

As I grew closer to the harbor where Elsa's ship had sailed from, I continued to see more and more of us. We were in the air, and we were in the water all the way down to the pier, and I knew I'd never walk these streets alone when I was always thinking about her.

At last the dock came into view, and I was surprised to see another person already standing there. The weather was brutally cold, and I had thought that there would be no one foolish enough as I was to be out there. I was even more surprised when the person turned around and said "Hello, Anna," in a soft voice that I treasured and that still haunted my dreams.

"Elsa?" I questioned, my ears telling me that it was her, but my eyes telling me it couldn't be. The woman before me was still gorgeous, but she was old. My Elsa should have been my age.

"It's me, my love," she answered with a smile, and while her eyes mirrored her affectionate expression, there was an implicit sadness in them as though her heart was quietly breaking and not for the first time.

"But how?" I demanded. "How are you here? And how are you old?"

Elsa chuckled at my lack of diplomacy. "I am as old as you are, darling," she stated, amused.

I startled at that and I looked down at my hands, noticing for the first time how they were wrinkled and spotted. They were the hands of an old woman, not the twenty-something I had thought myself to be. I looked at Elsa in confusion, and she smiled sympathetically before handing me a small mirror without being asked. I looked into it, and like my hands had declared, the visage looking back at me was the wrinkled face and white hair of an old woman. My confusion deepened, and Elsa gently took the mirror from me before I grew completely distracted and dropped it.

"How am I old? Tell me," I pleaded, bewildered.

"Come, let's sit," Elsa offered, guiding me to a nearby bench. When we made it, Elsa reached into the bag on her shoulder and pulled out a thick, woolen blanket. After wrapping us both in it, she snuggled close to me and wrapped me in her arms, and even as my mind was reeling, my body snuggled back, knowing this touch instinctively. "It's been 62 years since my mother was transferred and I moved away from here," she said. "I was devastated when I had to leave, and every day I wanted to come back to you. After I finished college, and I knew what I wanted to do with my life, I knew I wanted you to be a part of it, at least if you still wanted me."

"I would always want you," I interrupted, and Elsa laughed.

"So you did," she agreed. "I found a job here, and we started dating. Within a year, we were engaged, and about a year after that, we were married. A few years after that, the girls started arriving, and after we had three of them, our family was complete. They grew up, moved out, went to college, had families of their own, and not so long ago, started giving us all of our grandchildren to spoil."

I frowned, not really remembering any of this. It sounded familiar, but in a fuzzy, detached way, like it had never been my life. "Then why don't I remember?" I asked sadly.

Elsa sighed, and I could see the sadness return. "About five years ago, you were diagnosed with dementia. The doctors think it is something like Alzheimer's, but different than they had seen before," Elsa explained. "You've been losing more and more memories as the time passes, and lately, you seem to have forgotten most of your life past your early twenties."

"Which is why I thought you were still gone," I guessed.

"Exactly," Elsa confirmed.

"How did you know to find me here?" I asked.

"Whenever you manage to slip past me, the girls or your nurses, you always follow the same path, and you always come here. You are always looking for me, even when you only remember that I left you," Elsa replied.

"I will never stop looking for you, no matter how much I forget," I swore, tears forming in my eyes. My heart was aching for us both; it was aching for the pain I was causing Elsa, and for my own pain at forgetting the wonderful life I'd had.

"I know, my love; I know," Elsa whispered, and as she kissed my cheek, I could feel her cold tears running down her cheeks. "And I will never stop looking for you. That's why I always come here to bring you home to me."