I was feeling anxious, when I arrived at the church where the man had been stabbed to death the week before, not because I was afraid he might somehow come back as a ghost and haunt me, or because I thought someone else would decide the place was as good as any place to stab a random stranger to death, but because I knew Jennifer was going to meet me there.

A beautiful woman, Jennifer had capitalized on what she’d inherited from her parents. She had worked out, toning and tanning and organizing and sculpting until there was little objection anyone could voice as to the shape of her body. Her face was so pretty nobody would have wanted to, but she went to the gym four times per week to make sure they couldn’t, if they decided to in the future.

As I sauntered up to the front door, she popped out of her hiding spot just inside, scaring me a little. I jumped backward, surprised, forgetting for the moment I’d just been coming up the concrete stairs outside of the building, the ones that led down to the street. As I slid/bounced/rolled down the stairs, I hurt myself in a dozen places, but I decided to bounce back up the second I remembered she would be watching, hurt and confused at the no-doubt unexpected outcome of her little prank.

I tried to get up, but couldn’t. I just lay there, a pool of blood forming around me, as Jennifer shrieked for help and shouted my name at me. She wanted me to get up, to have fun with her. To Jennifer, the only thing that really mattered was fun. Accidents had happened to her before, like her DWI, or her syphilis infection, or her “accidental” vote for Donald Trump. She was sorry about all of those things.

Suddenly, I was in a hospital. I felt much better in terms of pain, and as I looked around the room, I didn’t see anyone else there. I felt a bit saddened by the fact, but, as I moved my arms and legs around, it seemed like they didn’t work quite right. I touched my face and was surprised to find a substantial growth of beard there.

At last, a nurse walked by and I was able to ask her the date. It had been two months since the accident, and I could tell by her response that this was not the first time I’d had that question of her. I felt confused, overwhelmed by all of this, but the energy seemed to sap away. I went back to sleep, dreaming of beautiful Jennifer.