one half of a whole.

The next morning, I find that, in fact, nothing else seems to be out of place. I didn't really expect so--someone who leaves a coin (Was it a coin?) at your house is usually unlikely to steal anything, or so I've heard. However, the coin is still there.

D... the letter taunts me with its cryptic message. D was my childhood nickname, back when Daniel sounded too formal and Dan was shared by a 3rd grade classmate of mine, whom I'm hated and definitely didn't want to borrow a name from. My middle name wasn't possible--Harrington, anyone?--so I shortened it simply to D. However, anyone who had met me only in the last 10 years or so wouldn't know this, as I had switched back to Daniel sometime during my senior year in high school. So who was this visitor of mine?

Well, apparently, she identified herself on the opposite side of the coin. A, it read. I paused, wracking my brain for anyone I knew whose name started with A. There was Allie, my girlfriend of two months, though how she would know of my nickname I wasn't sure, and besides, sneaking into my house didn't really seem her style. Then there was Anna, my sister. A definite possibility, considering her strange sense of humor, though she never was the sneaking-around type--she liked to do things out in the open, which raised the question of why she would be creeping around my house at night.

I can think of no one else, so, already fascinated with this little coin, I quickly jot both of their names on a post-it note and stick it to the nearest wall. I wonder, what could be going on?