"Wow, kid. You know, you've gotten really tall," Wazowski said, breaking the silence.

I'm not a kid, I thought.

I didn't say it, though.

We stood before Jackson's old door, its power circle red and droning.

"Yup. Five eleven, and still growing," I replied.

"You hear that Sullivan? She could get taller than you at this rate."

"Woah ho ho hooo," Sullivan said. "Don't get her hopes up. No one is taller than me."

"We all know that's up for debate."

"Name one guy who's taller than me."

"Ted."

"Name one other guy who's taller than me."

"Jon."

"Name one other guy who's taller than me."

"Ben."

"Name one other--"

"Oh don't listen to him. You just keep on dreaming, kid. Just keep on hugging your stuffed animals," Mike said.

I arched an eyebrow. "Stuffed animals?"

"I don't know. Whatever you kids say these days."

I opened my mouth for a witty response, but clamped it shut and considered his words. "Yeah, sure. I'll do that."

I wished I could stretch out the small talk, but all of us knew we were just postponing the inevitable.

Sullivan reached for the door to turn the knob, a task I did not think was possible with his casts. But before he could wrap his claws around the faded brass, he jumped back. "AHHHHH!"

I nearly fell back with a heart attack. "What's the matter?!"

It was hilarious how light Sullivan could move on his feet, even with his arms in plasters.

Mike peered past me. "That's a, that is a big spider."

I leaned forward, squinting at the floor surrounding the door. "Where?"

"Right there." He pointed.

Reluctant, I took a step forward.

Sullivan wheezed from behind the two of us. It sounded as if his lungs had shriveled up and turned to dust.

"Don't hurt yourself," Mike mockingly sympathized.

I took another step closer to the door.

"What are you doing?"

I ignored him, searching the floor. "Where are you... ACK!"

I had spotted it.

And it was no grass spider in Chemistry.

The darn thing was as big as a golf ball. A big... purple... pom pom... with yellow polkadots... and eight eyes...

"Here, I'll kill it." Mike stepped forward.

I watched in passive silence as he marched toward the spider. Then I grabbed him by the shoulder. "Don't hurt it."

"Why not?" He eyed me like I had lost my mind.

"Is it venomous?"

"Uh, no--"

"Then don't kill it. It's not hurting anyone."

"It's just a spider."

I eyed the spider once more, sending shivers down my spine. "No, it's not." I knelt down, and scooped the thing into my hand.

The living thing.

Gently I carried the spider in my cupped hands past Mike and Sullivan to an opposing wall, one with a hole cracked in it the size of my fist. I rested my knuckles on the cracked concrete and opened my hands.

The gentle spider crawled off my palm, tickled my fingers with its wispy legs, and stopped when it rested on the floor.

It turned its tiny head over its shoulder before crawling away. And I swear, I swear to this day, that it actually smiled at me.

* * *

I again joined my companions, feet from the dreadful doorway that would take me back to my past life.

And again, Sullivan reached for the doorknob.

Mike's eye fell to the floor. "Hey kid."

I looked at him. "Yeah?"

He pulled something from behind his back. "Speaking of stuffed animals..."

It was a monster's toy. Made with rough brown material, it sported four legs, one eye, and two horns like Mike.

"Just something to remember us, by..." He set the stuffed animal in my hand. I raised it to my eyes, my palm facing me.

I looked back at Michael, rapidly blinking. "Thank you."

He cleared his throat. "And Mary, uh, I really just wanted to say—"

I fell to my knees and threw my arms around him.

He jumped back, startled, but then dropped the tension in his shoulders. He rested his hand on my back. "I'm so glad you're okay." His voice shriveled like a wilted leaf in his throat.

I let go, and straightened my knees, towering over him once again.

"Bye kid." Michael said.

I wiped my wet eyes on my forearm, the plush still in my hand. "Bye."

As Sullivan held the door open for me, I walked through the doorway, head down, clutching the worn toy to my chest with all the strength I had in me.

I never saw him again.