You walk over to the counter, gold-embossed ticket in hand. As you get there, you notice some older discarded tickets in a basket on the counter. They're all plain paper with single numbers on them. None of them look anything like yours.

The old man is staring at your ticket, too, and then he stares at you with an unreadable expression before asking softly, as if the wind was just knocked out of him, "Little Emily... is that you?"

"Little Emily! Do you remember me?" He asks, but it's pretty obvious to him that you have no idea who this guy is. His face falls a bit, but it's replaced with a wise, knowing look.

"You're here for answers, aren't you?"

I look at this guy and don't know what he means... but I want to

Yes, I am here for answers.

He nods, and opens the door to the back room, and holds it open for you.

What do you do?

I'm not sure what to do - I want to go but... inside I feel panicked. My feet feel frozen to the floor. Stop it, calm down, this is why you came, I tell myself. I take a deep breath and walk past him into the back room.

You head into the back, past racks of clothing ready to be cleaned and wait as Mr. Robinson enters the room and leads you to a small office all the way at the back of the building.

The inside of the room is very old fashioned, like a room out of another era entirely. If the rest of the building was stuck in the mid-to-late 20th century, this office is something directly out of the 19th.

There are photographs all along the walls here, as well. And one of them you recognize instantly. It's Mr. Robinson and your parents... and two small children you realize are both Amber and yourself.

As he sees you looking at the picture, he gives you a sad smile.

"You know, when I heard the news, I wasn't sure I'd be seeing you, and yet I..." He trails off.

He takes the photograph from the wall and places it on his desk. He then motions to the old chair in front of him before taking a seat on the large office chair across from it.

"Please, have a seat. I'm sure you have so many questions."

I wipe imaginary dust off the chair before I take a seat. I perch on the edge, not quite trusting any of this enough to settle in.

Yes, I have so many questions. My father left me a letter, and you obviously saw the ticket... he said you would have answers but I'm not even sure what to ask. Should I remember you? I take it you were close to my parents. Why am I here?

Geez, give him time to answer, my inner voices admonishes.

Mr. Robinson nods. "Your father was one of my dearest friends. He used to work at this very store each and every summer. See, your grandparents owned a summer home a little ways outside of town, and every year they would fly in from the west coast. He was a hard worker and a loyal friend."

He starts to ramble, but catches himself. He realizes that that's not really what you're asking.

"As for you, I haven't seen you since you were barely out of diapers. Wish you folks could have visited more but..." his face darkens. "He had to keep you and your sister away."

He sighs, and starts to search through his desk drawer for something.

"Emily, do you still believe in magic?"

Do I - ? I almost say no but something stops me and I hear the word Yes come out of my mouth. I'm a little surprised by it. Yes, I do still believe in magic.

I'm trying to take all of this in but it's all coming so fast.

Why do you ask that? And why did he have to keep Amber and I away?

He smiles from ear to ear to hear you say that. It's wonderful that you haven't lost your faith.

"Emily, did your father ever tell you...? Well, I suppose it doesn't matter now. You were adopted. I can only assume he never gave you the details of how that came to be."

"I was the one that found you, and sweet little Amber. Two children, all alone in the woods... You spoke of faeries and goblins and magic and... well, I always had a bit of the Sight myself, but even I didn't believe it at first that it wasn't just things a little girl made up to explain things she couldn't understand. We couldn't find where either of you came from. You were two healthy, well-cared for children, but you came from out of the blue. It didn't make sense."

He pulls out a photo album and flips through it until he finds what he's looking for. It's a photograph of you and Amber, probably the oldest photo of yourself you've ever seen. Come to think of it, your parents never showed you any baby pictures. There were a few of Amber, but...

You look closer, and notice that the clothes you two are wearing are... strange. You've never seen outfits like those before, and yet... you remember how soft the fabric was.

"You two stayed with me for weeks while the sherriff's office tried to investigate. I almost kept you two myself, but..."

He turns around, and away from you.

"Then the visions started."

He doesn't turn back around to face you. Instead, he seems to sink even lower into his seat.

"I mentioned I had a bit of the Sight... I wouldn't quite call myself psychic or anything. Most people who want to tell you that only want to sell you something. But I've always had visions. Small things, like one of the four numbers of the lotto, or seeing a future where I miss the bus, or... one time I had a vision of an older woman who used to live in town having a heart attack, and I drove her to the local hospital right in the nick of time. But it was always small things, easily dismissed as coincidence."

He finally spins back around to face you.

"Then, you two turned up."

[...]