No one knew if Katherine was one or many because each time she vanished she came back as a totally different person who yet called herself Katherine and somehow knew things about us that only the true Katharine could know. We would perhaps have overlooked the startling changes in her appearance and personality (now like a sly cat, another time like a valkyrie or a damsel in distress) if only there had not been so many Katharines (this last time she had returned with a faraway look in her eye and raven black hair that had previously been unapologetically red) or if she had not insisted that she was in fact always the one and the same Katharine. Well, she has now vanished once again. We all wondered who she would be when we saw her next. Perhaps a prima ballerina prancing about in piping-hot-pink pantaloons, prating on and on about some pearl of wisdom so priceless that it was actually worth nothing at all. We knew at least she would not be like us, blessedly familiar, wearing the spring grass down to a well-graveled path.