The first day I met the journalist was the day my brother went to his new apartment and I got list in the city streets. I stumbled around, everything was so new and scary at the same time. I felt like a flop, not knowing where my own home was. Thus had been the second time I'd moved somewhere, when my siblings began dropping like flies back in Germany. A mysterious illness, a curse...that's the rubbish that people told me was at fault. I know it's rubbish because of the memories of the night I saw it, the night I saw him.

And every night after was plagued with nightmares.

So, naturally, I was frightened at the thought of walking alone in these streets at night. The cool wind blew against my face, as my walking pace quick led into a run. In doing this, like karma leaping in, I ran into someone. "Oh, I'm sorry!" I apologized quickly as the ginger haired boy pulled me up.

"It's quite alright. Are you okay, miss?"

"Aside from appearing to be quite list, I'm fine." I assured him, as a small, white, dog ran by our feet.

"Us that anything I can help with?"

I smiled. "Perhaps. Do you know the way to 21 Labrador road?"

His eyes lit up. "Well, I'm headed that way myself. I would be glad to show you the way."

I giggled. "You're such a gentleman. What's your name?"

"Tintin, and my dog here is Snowy. And yours is?" He asked as we walked down the street.

I smiled back at him. "Mallory. Mallory Abbingnale."

"how old are you, Mallory?" He asked me. I suppose if I could ask questions, so could he.

"I'm eighteen. And you are..?" I asked him.

"I'm nineteen." Tintin told me.

I was intrigued by him. "So, what do you do?" I asked him.

"I'm a journalist."

"A journalist? How fascinating. An interesting purpose." I mused.

"A purpose."

"Everyone has a purpose, whether or not it seems realistic, Tintin. Like yours is a journalist, and mine us yet to be determined. My theory is that everyone has or needs a purpose. In life, in the economy, in the market...even in an adventure."

"That's a fascinating theory. What is your purpose, then?" Tintin asked me when we came to my door.

"I suppose that's to be determined." I told him. "Thank you for walking me home, tintin. You are a perfect gentleman." I heard a bark coming from the small dog and I giggled. "You too, Snowy."

"I hope to see you again, Mallory."

"As I to you, Tintin." And with that he left, giving me a small wave as I went inside, unaware of the adventure to be had by meeting him on that sidewalk that evening.