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There's a fork in the road. A long, metal, fork. Sarah and I put it there when we were kids, laughing and being silly. Everyday I pass that fork on my way to school. Everyday I try to get the fork out of the ground. Everyday I fail.

Sarah is now going to college, leaving me. I'm moving to a different part of town. I won't see the fork anymore. So I stand there, staring at the fork. I walk up to it, wrap my fingers around the handle and try to pull it out. Like always, it doesn't even budge.

Long, slender, fingers wrap around my hand. A mouth is to my ear, blonde hair in my face. Sarah smiles into my hair and whispers, "Let's pull it out."
And together we pull.
It comes out like it was nothing. I look at the fork in amazement, it's in perfect condition. Nothing is rusting, nothing.

I turn on my heel and extend my arm out. "Take it, Sarah. It's good luck."
Sarah gives me a warm smile, taking the fork and slipping it in her pocket.

That night, I found out something horrible happened. Sarah and two of her friends were in the car. Sarah was the one driving. I found out that a huge truck went crashing into my sister's door. But, only two people were killed. Sarah actually had walked out of the car, not even a scratch on her. The fork still snuggled in her pocket.

Sarah gave me the fork. She smiled at me and said it was a good luck charm.
That night, I put the fork underneath my pillow. And that night, I was shot directly in the middle of the forehead.

That morning, I woke up.

The fork was placed on my chest, my hands holding it securely. When I looked over the side of my bed, I saw a dead man. There was a bullet hole in his temple.
I screamed.

Now that fork is hanging out in living room. Like a beautiful picture. People admire it, and I always look at it with a smile.

The fork we bought at a garage sale. The fork that was stuck in the ground. The fork that saved us both. I wonder if that fork will save someone else someday.