Norman walked up to Agatha's tree, book in hand. The sun was going down, a bright pink-orange painting the sky.
Agatha materialized, a faint white glow around her. She was asleep at the foot of the tree. She opened her eyes, drowsy, and stifled a yawn. She sat up, stretching. "Norman? Has it been a year already?"
He smiled. "Yeah."
She smiled. "You grew some more! How old are you now?"
"I'm 24." Norman walked over and sat down next to her. "Did you sleep well?"
"Yeah!" she said excitedly. Her face lit up. "I had this dream that I got to see my mom again! You were there too! We were in this meadow, and you were reading us a story from one of your books. And mom…"
They talked all night until sunrise. "They put up a new statue of you," Norman said.
"Yeah, and it looks exactly like you!"
Agatha smiled. "That makes me happy. That they see me as me…not the witch."
Norman smiled back. "I-…I'm the one who asked them to put it up. I gave them a description of you and helped the sculptor with the details."
"You did all that for me?" Agatha asked.
"Of course I did. You are a very special person to me, Aggie. My very best friend." Norman smiled and pulled out his book. "Are you getting tired? I'll read to you."
Agatha smiled. "That would be nice." She rested her head on his shoulder and he began to read. "Norman?" she said drowsily.
She curled up against him and closed her eyes. "You're my best friend, too.