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*Present Day. December 10.*
Dr.Anderson couldn't help but stare at the gravestone.
"I'm sorry," She whispered to the air "We did all that we could, she just....was too sick." Her brow furrowed at the word.
Sick didn't even discribe what she had, had.
"Hey!" A Bellowing voice came from behind the grave, making the Doctor jump.
Her head shot up to see the gravedigger imerging from the grave.
"Before I go, I need the name."
Dr.Anderson didn't seem to hear his statement. "So young....this one was different."
The gravedigger scoffed.
"What is it with you and your mental paitents?"
She whirled around "They are not mental!" She hissed
He put his hands up innocently. "Well I apologize, i just want the name of the dead girl."
Reluctantly, The doctor flipped through her files. The wind whipped furiously at the papers, as it too where trying to prevent her from giving away the valueabile infortmation.
"Well, are you going to tell me the number or not?" The gravedigger exclaimed, rubbing his baseball mit sized hands togeather.
Dr.Anderson suddenly looked up at him with her cold, slate colored eyes.
"Before I give you the name, you have to promise not to tell a single soul about what I am going to exchange with you."
The Gravediggers eyes widened.
A sly grin slide across her lips, and the winter air suddenly got colder.