We locked eyes across the street. You were walking alone, through the dark, even though it was winter and you had to be freezing. On your way to work, or on your way to break someone's heart. It really didn't matter to me because there you were.

My heart started pounding, my hands started shaking. All internal organs felt like they were snaking up my throat, into my mouth. I felt the butterflies in my stomach. But they were less like butterflies and more like fully grown animals in captivity, throwing themselves against the wall, trying to escape or to just make themselves known. My favorite song was playing in the background, making it an even more beautiful moment. Bastille's soft crooning was a bizarre juxtaposition to my engine revving as I waited for you to cross the road.

I should've run you over with my car when I saw you.

The road home seemed longer this evening. Maybe it was because of a time crunch, trying to get home in time for the late showing of Beauty and the Beast with my parents. Then again, I also hadn’t been to the lake in a while, that could be the reason for the lag this evening. Whatever the cause, I was bored out of my mind. Music wasn’t helping, even the songs that I could sing along with, and scenery gazing was just a distraction from the act of driving. Two near misses already, one was a black cat and the other a fox. They weren’t the only animals that I’ve had to avoid on this road. A couple years ago, I sadly hit two raccoons both in one go. I burst into tears as my friends began laughing at me, eventually causing my tears to subside to hysterical laughter. I feel even worse having to say, “the coons were the lucky ones.” I once hit a blue and orange bird, it got stuck between the license plate and the front of the car. The poor bird was stuck on the front for two weeks, much like a hood ornament. All I can say for myself is I have bad luck when it comes to living things and my driving.

With my experience, I should have known that tonight would be no exception. Two near misses, means the third one is the charm, or calamity in my case. After completing the second stop of the night, I put the gas petal to the floor, accelerating quickly. Upon reaching 58 mph, a large black shape appears from nowhere. With the sound of flesh slapping against metal, it bounced and rolled over my car. Slamming on my brakes, my car protests as it is suddenly halted. White knuckling my steering wheel, I work on catching my breath as I look in my rearview mirror. My gut churns as I come to grasp that I had hit not something but someone. Putting my car in park, I open my door to climb out. Intent on going to the immobile blob of a person, I force my shaky legs to hold me.

Being a mature adult, I would like to say that I handled the situation with clarity and order. First by going to the body, checking for a pulse, then calling 911 for an ambulance. Instead, my mind went into chaos over the fact that I had hit someone. In a panic, I rushed to the prone form, flipped them upward, and proceeded to stare. I should have at least said something, but I had become dumb struck. This road kill was, in fact, a very handsome man, not much older than me. With not much thought left in my mind, I squatted there with my face mere inches from his. I should have been certain of was his breath, since it was causing me to blink frequently, but like a fool, I was sure he was dead.

Believing someone is dead is not a good, especially when that dead person sits up. In my case, that is exactly what the dumbass did, knocking foreheads with me. With the speed and precision of his movement, I was now laying on the road, hands holding my head as I fought off the black haze in my eyes. Rolling to my knees, I pushed myself back into a standing position as my brain continued to throb. Turning, I glared at where the man stood. Even with good lucks, he was still an ass, although I was the one who hit him. Giving a sigh of contempt, I stuck my hand out.

“The name’s Samantha. Should I call an ambulance?” With a tilt of his head and a weird look in his eyes, he grasped my hand.

“You can call me Adonis, and since you hit me, I could use a place to stay.”

Great! All I needed was to bring this guy home with me to make up for my guilt; try explaining that to your parents. Knowing that I wouldn’t abandon him, I nodded and slowly made way back to my car. Peeking at my hood, I decided that he hadn’t damaged it enough to be noticeable. Both car doors opened with a cry as we climbed in. The thought of explaining Adonis to my parents consumed my mind. I figured I could say he was a friend. His backstory could be one where he was with a group of people who wanted to do illegal things, but he wasn’t game so he called me to the rescue. I figured my parents would then have sympathy for him and agree to let him stay for the weekend. We could then head back to school together, and he could crash on my futon, or something, until he was ready to leave.

With my ideas once again organized, I looked over at Adonis. All dressed in black, it was hard to believe he came from out of nowhere precisely hitting my car.

“Where did you come and how did I manage to hit you?” I had to ask.

“You wouldn’t believe me without proof, and I’m not in the mood to give you any.” He actually looked sheepish as he spoke.

“I want an honest answer, I feel entitled to at least that.” I glared at him.

Sighing, he explained. “It’s called teleportation. I just came from Paris, France. While it is hard to believe, I was on the elevator in the Eiffel Tower. My watch that I have on allows for teleportation through space. Don’t worry, time teleportation has yet to be invented. Anyway, I had a run in with a group of people who aren’t so friendly and had to get out of there. With little time, I ended up here. Satisfied, or do you need proof?”

He sounded like he was trying to escape explanation with a stupid lie. However, I knew it was true because it was so outrageous and not many people want to sound foolish, especially when they are trying to get out of something. It would be to obvious that they just didn’t want to answer. Normally, I would expect sarcasm with such an answer, but since he had none, I let it slide. With a nod, the car fell silent.

Adonis kept staring at me, waiting for I don’t know what but it became apparent when he spoke. “You actually believe me? You aren’t going to ask for proof?”

I give a weak smile. “It’s so crazy that it’s hard to wrap my head around, so yes, I believe you. While proof would be nice to convince myself that what I’m choosing to believe is possible, I won’t require it.”

With a breath of relief, we settle in silence as the radio fills up background noise. The ride, having seemed long, flew by in seconds as my boredom died away. Before I realized it, I was pulling into my parents’ driveway. Taking a deep breath, we headed for the backdoor of the house. I just walked in, assuming my parents were dressed and ready to go, I should have known better. They were quickly eating, my father in his underwear and my mother just changing the shirt she had spilled on. Slightly embarrassed at the sight, I pushed Adonis back out the door. Once again, in a panic, I rushed over to them and told them we had company. That pushed them into action as Dad threw on pants and Mom finished putting on her shirt. Semi-presentable, I retrieved Adonis. As I guessed, my parents would make a big deal about it.

They instantly started the interrogation before Adonis could even left the entryway. I knew what they were thinking, I had brought a boy home to meet the family. I should have cleared the misunderstanding immediately, but I couldn’t get a word in edgewise. The time we had to leave for the movies came and my parents were convinced that Adonis was perfect for me. Having given up on fixing their interpretation, I let them believe what they wanted. Adonis didn’t help matters, he seemed determined to convince them that I was his girl. I would just have to clear it up when Adonis went back to wherever the hell he came from.

My parents had backed out of going to Beauty and the Beast, determined to send us on a date night. We were encouraged to grab a bite after the movie, but being a late showing, the time would be around midnight when we grabbed food. To satisfy my parents, I decided we’d just grab fast-food. We again climbed into my car and waved good-bye. Adonis quickly went into a spiel, telling me how great my parents are; it almost felt like he had wanted their approval. I could only nod and to try to stop grinning.

Reaching the movie theater, I went to pay for the tickets, but Adonis beat me to it. Resigning to the fact that he’s paying, I patiently waited. From there we gave our tickets to the collector and went to enjoy the show. While it was enjoyable, it was slow and not to my tastes. Once we exited the theater, we had to decide where we wished to eat, eventually settling on McDonalds, where I ordered my usual of two snack wraps and a parfait. Adonis chose to get the Big Mac meal and an extra helping of fries. We savored our meal in compatible silence and after licking our fingers clean, we headed back to my house.

Upon returning, the house was dark. I knew that now my parents were fast asleep. Leading Adonis downstairs, I showed him the where he would sleep and the bathroom. I then went to my room, grabbed some basketball shorts and a unisex t-shirt and re-entered the family room, where a futon was already equipped with blankets and pillow. I found Adonis already down to his boxers, trying to look at anything but him, I forcefully handed him the clothes. Closing my eyes, I waited until he told me he was dressed. Showing him where he could find towels for showering, I parted ways and headed for sleep.

With a ringing in my ears from my alarm clock, I groggily rolled out of bed and began my morning routine. On the way to the bathroom, I realized the futon was made and the clothes I lent to Adonis were nicely folded on top. Figuring he was up already and possibly in the bathroom, I knocked but received no answer. Slightly confused, I headed upstairs to find the house still quiet. In a panic now, I wondered where Adonis could have disappeared. Rushing back to the basement, I scanned the rooms. At this point I was sure he had disappeared much like he had appeared, without a trace, when my eyes fell upon a note laying on top of the clothes.

Hey Sam,

Sorry I had to run. The boss required some vital information that I had on my person. I was told to leave without a trace, but didn’t feel it was fair due to your hospitality. Though the time was short together, I must say that you and your family are wonderful. While I have noticed that you can have quite a bite, you are sweet and caring. You are one of the few people that I felt I could trust with the world I live in. Hopefully, we can meet again, under better circumstances.

Your instant friend,

Adonis

Finishing the note, my heart gave a little squeeze. I shouldn’t have been so bitchy, but I was glad he didn’t assume that I was always that way. Next time I would make sure to be a little nicer, that is if I ever see him again. No, I was sure I would see him again. Until then I would go back to my mundane life and hope that something as exciting as Adonis would hit again.

I hate the color pink, lately it’s the only color I can or have seen; black too. It’s driving me insane. Ever since my accident, or eye examination gone wrong. I went in to have them checked but for some reason the puff of air they used for lord knows what, was wrong and somehow, I got an overlay of pink paint on my eyes, hence the new color blindness. The strange thing is it didn’t touch my other four senses. Honestly the world looks like a little girl’s bedroom (you know the ones who are obsessed with princesses and ballerinas). Now nothing tastes good, as I’m sure was already guessed. I used to love chocolate, but ever since it turned into a magenta color it just isn’t as appealing. I also can’t remember the last time I watched a movie, thanks to my new obscure vision. Books aren’t bad if I get over the fact that they look something a wannabe punk would make. The appearance of the pages is usually light pink, words are black (I guess I was cut a little bit of slack), and the covers alternate different shades of pink. The doctors say I’m lucky to have kept my eye sight but when I look at myself in the mirror, a man in pink, and my dog, something straight out of “Blue’s Clues,” I guess I’m just not so sure. I’m aware people have problems a lot worse than me and I’m sure I have no right to complain, but as everything I read or write looks like the diary of an aspiring artist/writer who only knows monochromatic in one color, I swear I’m going insane. Yesterday my sister came to visit, I know what she looked like before my accident, but now I’m not so sure. My sister has always been popular, she’s nice and not afraid to tell people how it is. When she found out what happened to me after the accident she said, “Well I’m definitely not having pink bridesmaid dresses at my wedding after this.” My memories are the only thing keeping me from permanently removing my eyesight. I guess I should try to think positive now, but trust me when I tell you with one swipe of this pen I could get out of this girly nightmare.

Painter Michaelango Mersi da Caravaggio was recalled from exile to take the stand late Friday afternoon to confront his assaulters. During an art exposition four months ago, Caravaggio was tackled and verbally threatened by a crazed man. The attacker was quoted as saying "I am from the future! Someone is going to try and steal your art in the year 1969! DON'T VOTE FOR NIXON!" The assaulter was condemned to crucifixion and two counts of "Failure to use superfluous language," and has also been charged with "Insufficient use of 'thou.'"

--Reported by Diego Rodrigo Dolce