Abraham Lincoln is my friend

I was feeling tired and overwhelmed and climbed into my time machine and punched in the keyboard:  4pm, December 21st, 1863, 1600 Pennsylvania Ave. I found President Lincoln at work in his office. He could tell I was tired. He put down his pen, got up, and invited me to the couch. Lincoln sat down and I curled up on his lap. He was a big man. About twice as big as most. He said, “Whatsoever’s wrong, it’s gonna be okay, Brooks.” I fell asleep in seconds.

When I woke up, it was dark. I was laying down on the couch, covered with two blankets. I called out to see if I was alone. No one answered. I got up and left the office and walked around the halls. There was a nightwatchman. He nodded as we passed. He knew me because I’m a frequent visitor. It was incredibly quiet. That’s why I love the night.

Out of all my time travel destinations, Lincoln is the person I visit the most. I feel good enough to say we are friends. Sometimes I’ll visit him when I know he’s feeling low. Like February 20, 1862, when his son Willie had died. I never know what to say in that kind of situation. So I figure it’s best not to say anything. Stand near by, and keep an open heart. Lincoln cried and leaned his head against my chest. I held it as he sobbed. I don’t think there’s anyway to feel closer to someone.

There was the time I visited Lincoln the afternoon of April 15th, 1865 and told him that someone would try and kill him that night if he went to the Ford’s Theater. Lincoln thought about it. Then said he would go to the theater anyway because it was wrong to mess with fate. I said that messing with fate would be fate. You can’t avoid fate since it’s the string puller. Lincoln thought that was a sharp observation and decided to stay home. I enjoyed a nice dinner with Lincoln and his wife, Mary Todd and his son, Tad. We ate turkey, yams, and apple pie.