All Cynthia wanted was to date this guy. It was her only immediate goal. But the universe decidedly had other ideas in mind. She was not aware of this, of course, not at first, but she got the gist quickly.
For instance, on her way out of her neighborhood, her car exploded underneath her feet. One second her foot pushed down the pedal, and the next a fireball erupted and seared off her everything.
A few moments later, she rose from the sidewalk and stumbled forward, her skin re-growing with an itch that truly could not be scratched.
“Oh, so it’s going to be that, is it?” she said, raising her fist to the heavens. “We’re still on this? Immortality is not a choice, asshole!”
She narrowed her eyes on a nearby cloud, expecting a response to come any moment, and was not disappointed when a meteor—tiny and red and fiery—plunged through her forehead.
She slumped to the ground, and, after a second, breathed a deep lungful of air. The hole in her brain and skull sealed itself much faster than her skin ever managed.
“That was real mature,” Cynthia grumbled, and picked herself up off the ground, brushing off her limbs as her clothes finally began to regrow over her skin.
She stretched her jammed up shoulder and caught her neighbor—an older man with white hair and a grin that told of much mischief in his youth—looking at her with extreme interest.
“One of those days,” she explained.
“Seems like it.”
“Yeah—he’s mad today,” Cynthia said, gesturing upward.
The old man walked slowly across his yard. Ready, Cynthia was sure, to make conversation for hours if the possibility arose.
“Any reason?” he asked. “Are you still seeing that boy of his?”
“I’m trying to,” Cynthia said and waved her hand toward the flaming wreckage of her car. “But it is not going well. And, to top it off, we aren’t ‘seeing’ anything yet.”
“That’s not what it looked like last time you two were around here. I haven’t seen a look like that since my wife was with us.”
Cynthia gave a sympathetic nod but then huffed. “Yeah, well, he’s oblivious. But I’m going to go see him and make it obvious. Physically obvious if I have to.”
The man chuckled. “I’d say to be safe, or something like that—but you don’t seem to like that advice.”
“It’s not that I don’t like it,” Cynthia explained, “I’m just not great at following it. Or, rather, some…being…. won’t let me.”
“Still, take care.”
Cynthia smiled at him. “I try.”
It was then that she heard the far-off cry of a coyote pack.