The girl in the wheel chair smiled at me and called my name before I could tell her.

On a Wednesday, Violet rolled into class in a wheelchair, her bright green dress and confident demeanor standing out. She seemed to know me, calling me Eleanor with a familiarity I couldn’t place. Despite my confusion, we became friends. I helped with her books and wheelchair, drawn to her wisdom and humor. Violet hinted at a shared past, mentioning an accident that left her legs impaired and a mysterious connection from

“before.” One day, I noticed a tattoo on her wrist, matching one from a vivid dream. She confirmed we were linked in another life, meant to help each other. At the bus stop, a man in a suit approached, saying Violet’s time was up. She urged me to find my path alone, insisting I had the power. After she left, I realized her words and our bond were part of a larger puzzle. I was ready to embrace my journey, certain there was more to my life than I’d imagined.