Angela was moonlighting in the produce department at Fields Market on her second day of work when she saw Susan Mayer getting herself tangled up in a label printer.

"Oh dear, oh dear..." Susan kept repeating as the labels kept pouring out.

"Here, let me help." Angela said. She wasn't sure how to stop the sticker tape, but she was sure she'd be able to figure it out before Susan.

"Oh thank god," said Susan. "I was about to get wrapped like a mummy."

Angela tried the easiest solution first - she hit the off switch.

"Now why didn't I think of that?" Susan asked. They both looked around at the piles of paper, and Susan bent down to pick it up. "Here, let me get this."

"No, don't worry about it! That's my job." Angela stooped down, blocking access to Susan's mess.

"Wow, you must be new." said Susan. "I do something like this at least once a week. They even have a mop named in my honor."

"We all have our clumsy moments." Angela reassured her with a warm smile. She'd never been bothered by Susan's hijinks; while others had gotten exasperated, she'd always felt more aw than ugh. "Some just have more than others." As she said it, she got that feeling of deja vu again.

Susan felt it too. "That sounded a lot like what a friend of mine used to say."

"Why wouldn't she say it now?"

Susan hesitated; it wasn't information you shared with just anyone, but this was just a stranger...wasn't it?

"She died." Susan revealed. She made it sound like it hurt to say. And, curiously, Susan hadn't said 'she killed herself.'

"I'm so sorry." Angela said, and she meant it.

Angela remembered again Susan's tears during and after her funeral. It hit her just how much Susan had cared for her, and yet Angela felt compelled to ask yet another rude question.

Oh, you greedy ghost.

"How did she die?"

Did it offend Susan, or did Susan look into Angela's eyes, confused, because she heard something else familiar in Angela's voice? I must look pretty damn sympathetic and trustworthy, Angela thought, because - as with Paul and Lynette - Angela's surface rudeness was overlooked. And just like Paul and Lynette, Susan took a deep breath and shared something personal with Angela, this person she thought she didn't know.

"It was an accident." said Susan, and she believed it. Angela was beginning to believe it too. It sure would help explain her recent re-existence in Fairview.

Was it a mistake?

Not the kind of revelation Angela was prepared to have next to the fruit display.

I made a mistake.

"Wow, first I make a mess and then I make us both cry."

"What?" Angela whispered, quickly pawing at her eyes. They were wet with tears.

Susan stood and apologized, wiping some dirt from her jeans.

"No, it's my fault!" Angela insisted. "I didn't mean to pry."

"If I learned one thing from it," Susan smiled again. "It was to share our burdens, not hide them. If I don't talk about it, it'll eat at me forever."

A manager, alerted by Timmy, approached the two ladies.

"Is everything all right?" he asked, hesitant and a little frightened at the sight of two women crying.

Susan waved him off. "We were just having a moment. Your label printer is sick, by the way."

The novelty of pain has officially worn off.Angela thought as she climbed the stairs to her third floor apartment after another long day of standing. As she looked in her purse for her key, another tired soul made his way up the steps. Paul didn't see her at first, as he was staring into space, but when he looked up, and almost imperceptible smile crossed his face.

"Long day?" Angela asked.

"Job hunting." he said with a sigh.

"Any luck?"

"We'll see...I guess." Paul dug absent mindedly in his left pocket for his own keys. He was tired; not just physically, but with life. He was pessimistic about his search for sure, but he didn't even seem concerned about waking up the next morning.

"Hey...you want a drink?" Angela asked.

Angela sat, curled up on her couch, across from Paul. He took another sip of whatever Angela had given him, something amber colored and sweet she'd found in her kitchen cabinet. He was being so quiet, and she longed to hear him speak. He could have said anything at all, as long as it was in that low timbre of his.

"So what kinds of jobs were you looking for?" she asked.

He sat silent for a moment.

"Security guard." he replied, without a hint of irony.

Angela laughed a little, trying to hold it in and failing miserably.

Paul raised an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth turning up. "Pretty stupid, huh?"

"Not stupid, just...unlikely."

Was that a smile she saw forming?

"That's the first time I've seen you smile." Angela said. 'Since I've been back' was the part she kept to herself.

Paul shrugged. "I guess you have that effect on me."

He looked at her then, with a curious expression.

I bet he's wondering why I trust him. She felt so comfortable, so safe.

"You remind me of someone I knew." said Paul. "In another life."

Angela's heart jumped.

Can he see me?

"Do you believe in past lives?" she asked him.

Paul smiled, but not like before. It was wry, and sad this time. "I meant it figuratively." He stared into his drink, contemplating telling her something. Angela imagined herself nuzzling her head in his neck, knew how it would feel curling up beside him so he could tell her everything, but she remained on her side of the couch.

"I should go." he said, still staring into the glass.

"...Are you sure?" Angela asked quietly, willing him to look at her again.

When he did, there was something dark and serious in his eyes. He nodded and put his drink down. He thanked her for the drink, letting her walk him to the door. She watched him cross the short distance to his apartment.

"I'm here, if you ever want to talk about...anything." said Angela.

"Thanks." Paul replied. His expression was soft, and Angela hoped it was as much from their conversation as it was from the alcohol.

Moments after closing her door, there was a loud knock. Excited, thinking it had to be Paul, she ran back to open up. A short, fat man with a ring of keys on his belt stood before her.

"Can I help you?" she asked.

The man smiled. "It's me."

"Oh." said Angela, in the most disappointed tone ever mustered. She let him into the apartment.

"Reconnecting?" he asked, gesturing toward the empty glasses on her coffee table.

Angela didn't answer, so distracted by thoughts of Paul that she ignored his question and asked her own.

"Will anyone be able to know who I really am? Is that...allowed?"

"Do you think they would believe you if you told them?"

Angela frowned. "No." She answered truthfully. "But you've seen their reactions - they recognize me, even if they don't realize it."
"You have a magnetic personality, Angela. You must have meant a lot to them, to reach beyond your physical appearance like that."

"Wow. That was almost a straight forward answer. Everything okay in the Twilight Zone?"
The man chuckled, another first. "Just trying to keep you on your toes. I'll leave you alone now."

"Hey, uh...could you snap your fingers or something when you're about to disappear? It really freaks me out when you just...vanish like that."

He slowly raised his hands, touching his middle fingers to his thumbs. "I'll be back." he said, Terminator style, and snapped. She blinked, and he was gone.

"What a dork." Angela sighed. Whatever he was, he'd been in a good mood. Angela realized that she had been too. Seeing Paul smile gave her hope; for what, she didn't know just yet, but it was enough to keep her going.