I know what happened was somewhat under fifteen years ago, but I remember that day like it was yesterday.

I remember the four penguins and I travelled all over Manhattan when I was a little baby. According to my dad, I was always the trouble-making type, especially as I got older.

My dad doesn't know how my stroller was destroyed that day, but I do. All the stuff that it went through that day, I'm surprised it didn't break down sooner. Through a demolition site, a subway, and a revolving door, it was quite the experience for a stroller and for me. I don't know exactly why I remember it so clearly, but I know that I do and I'm glad that I remember.

Dad took a day off in the summer, and we went to Central Park Zoo, the zoo where the penguins were. Ever since that day, under fifteen years ago, I've had such a fascination with penguins. My dad never understood why, and I wasn't able to tell him why without being stuck in a mental institute.

We went to Central Park Zoo, and Dad got a phone call from work, just like fifteen years ago. I took this as my chance to run off to the penguin exhibit.

When I got there, no people were around, and I heard one of them squawking to the others. Obviously, I couldn't understand them, but I knew it was my penguins just by looking at them. There was the one with the small Mohawk, the one with the flat head, the rather pudgy one, and the tallest one. I knew they were older now, but I figured they still might remember me.

When the one with the Mohawk pointed me out, the flat-headed penguin stopped talking almost immediately.

"Don't worry," I said to them. "You can keep talking."

The flat-headed penguin squawked at me, and I laughed. "I can't understand ya, buddy. Maybe I should, with how much I study you. Well, not you as in you guys or girls, but penguins. Great, I've made myself awkward by talking to penguins."

I scratched the back of my head as the penguins looked between one another, and the tallest one shrugged.

"I don't know if you guys - or girls - remember," I started, lightly wringing my hands. "But about, well, a little under fifteen years ago, I was still a baby. I was only about, oh, four months old or so when I escaped my stroller and managed to drag you all the way through Manhattan and through a demolition site, a subway, and several other things. I'm a bit of a troublesome child, apparently." I stop and laugh softly.

I look up to the penguins, all of them staring at me. "Y'know, now I just feel dumb for not realising you probably can't even understand me. Oh well, can't change it now. I'm talking to a bunch of penguins that I wreaked havoc on several years ago because I want to see if they remember me. Yeah, real sane-sounding."

I smile at them. I know they can respond, but I also know that they won't. Whether it's because they don't recognise me or they don't understand English, I don't know. They may just be choosing not to say anything. I can't be for sure.

"There you are!" I heard my dad call from behind me. I turned to see him making his way towards me. "I didn't know where you went. I had a sneaking suspicion you were here, though."

I smiled apologetically. "Sorry, Dad."

He shook his head. "No big deal. Hey, let's go check out the lemur habitat, I love watching the one with the crown dance."