[ WP ] You are ageless and have lived for centuries . One day you see someone you 're certain you recognise , and not from this particular era .

Being immortal isn ’ t all it ’ s cracked up to be. I guess I didn ’ t really think it through when I took the deal, but I was a fresh faced 18 year old ( still am, really ) and I didn ’ t know any better - take it from me though, if you some hobo lookin ’ dude offers you eternity when you ’ re walking home, drunk, from a night out? - There ’ s probably going to be a catch in there somewhere. 
 
 I mean, the frame of mind I was in at the time, the deal sounded like the best thing ever, but, most things do when you ’ re drunk, case in point - Taco Bell. 
 
 It wasn ’ t for a few years before I realized anything had actually happened. You don ’ t really notice yourself aging, not until enough time has passed for you to look back and see how thin you were, how young you once looked, how… not gray your hair was? - I don ’ t know - I haven ’ t needed to know. It never happened to me. After a couple years, I started to notice that while my friends were growing up, getting older, getting fuller… I wasn ’ t. I looked the exact same as I did when I was 18. 
 
 I was 18 in 1955. 
 
 Over the years, I was able to invest what little money I had in the right companies, at the right times, to the extent that after a certain point, I no longer needed to worry about money. Which made living easier. I used to have to move around a lot - I don ’ t know what people would do if they realized there was an immortal living among them, but I also don ’ t particularly want to find out, either. 
 
 The morning it happened, I remember clearly - another ‘ benefit ’ of not aging, if you want to call it that, my memory is as sharp as it ever was - I was heading for coffee. I was in the line at Starbucks, pretty much just minding my own business and I looked up, she was a couple of people ahead of me, at that moment in time, I didn ’ t really think much of it, other than she was someone who looked super hot from behind, you know the type? - The type that, for whatever reason, rarely look as good from the front. 
 
 She ordered her drink, and eventually, I ordered mine. Her hair covered her face just enough, so that I couldn ’ t really see how she looked, as I looked more at what she was wearing, I was already starting to make assumptions, she looked like something straight out of the 60s and all my mind could think was ‘ fucking hipster ’. 
 
 “ Tall Americano for Sarah? ” 
 
 She collected her drink and turned to leave, tucking her hair behind her ear as she walked toward me ( and the door ). 
 
 Her face. The clothes. Her hair. The memories hit me like a truck. I knew her. I knew her from then. Not now. But she looked exactly like she did then. Had she drunkenly agreed to some deal with a hobo in an alley, as well? What was happening. I had spent 60-odd years thinking that I was the only one. That I was, ultimately destined to spend my life alone. But there she was. 
 
 I grabbed my coffee and ran out of the store after her. 
 
 “ Tall Americano for Sarah? ” rattled through my brain, until I blurted out. 
 
 “ Sarah! ” 
 
 She stopped. I ran to catch up with her, slowing down slightly as I got closer so as not to seem like a complete maniac. 
 
 “ Sarah… ” 
 
 “ Yes? ” 
 
 “ Sarah… ” - Fuck, what was her name. “... Harris! ” 
 
 “ Have we met…? ” 
 
 “ The Garden Club on 4th. ” 
 
 “ The where? ” 
 
 “ In 1963. I never forget a face. I never forget anything, but I especially never forget a face. ” 
 
 “ Let ’ s pretend, for a second, that I know what you ’ re talking about and don ’ t consider you a complete psychopath. How? ” 
 
 “ The very fact that you ’ re still stood in front of me would suggest you don ’ t think I ’ m a complete psychopath. As far as ‘ how? ’ - It involves some magic hobo in an alley on Halloween. ” 
 
 A defeated look crossed her face. 
 
 “ Halloween, 1961. ” 
 
 “ Hobo? ” 
 
 “ No. Weirdly, leprechaun in an Irish bar. ” 
 
 And that, kids, is how I met your mother.
