The April air froze my features as I passed Ford’s theatre. Heading home, a force like no other knocked me to the ground. My handbag flew off my arm like a raindrop away from a cloud, directly into the mud. I stood up, brushing the dirt off my dress, preparing a quick dialogue with the attacker.

He was John Wilkes Booth, the famous actor from the south. I quickly closed my mouth. He was my idol, my life long love. I had dreamed of meeting him. Even though he was a Confederate, and I a Yankee, I respected him deeply.

“I am sorry, ma’am.” He apologized. He looked down at his feet. “I have an extra ticket to Ford’s theatre tonight. If you would like to come, well…” His voice trailed off.

I glanced over at the small sign in front of Ford’s Theatre saying Abraham Lincoln would be arriving tonight. I wondered why such a passionate Confederate would be in town the same night as Lincoln. All of a sudden an awful idea came to my mind. No sooner had this thought entered my mind did I dismiss it, thinking of the prospect of that happening.

I replied curtly saying, “I shall accept that courteous offer.

“Then it is done. I shall meet you at 9:00 tonight at the bar on Main Street, just before curtain. If it is more convenient for you ma’am, I may meet you at your house and walk you to the theatre,” He said politely.

“Why, that would be delightful for you to come by my cottage.”

“Your wish is my command, “He quickly said.

I started to walk away when I heard him yell, “Wait.” I quickly slowed and waited for him to catch up.

“Where were my manners? I do not even know your name,” he exclaimed.

“The fault is all mine. My name is Abigail, Abigail Williams. No need to ask you, though. You’re the famous actor John Wilkes Booth from the South.

“Now I must be going. The chill is getting to me.” And indeed he was right. I then gladly walked back to my cottage. The wind blew at me, and in the air was a feeling of mystery that even now I cannot explain. It flowed through me as if I was not there at all.