"I know you."

"Do you?"

"Oh, yes."
"I'm very sure you don't." 

"No, no. I do. I've seen you somewhere," said The Woman, leaning over the espresso bar to get a better look at the familiar waiter. The Man frowned in confusion. 

"Well, are you a regular?" he offered. She shook her head in response. He scratched his stubbly chin and tossed a dish rag over his shoulder. 

 It was a cold, quiet, evening at the cafe The Man worked at. He knew every regular that came in every day of the week, except for Tuesdays. He didn't work Tuesdays. Somehow, he didn't recognize her, although she was striking, with her auburn hair and emerald eyes. You couldn't miss her. Yet, The Woman made him uncomfortable, with her quiet certainty that they had, in fact, met. He didn't really bother chatting with her, closing time was only a half an hour away, but her eager grin as she watched him make his final order made her practically impossible to ignore. He didn't tell her to leave. 

"Then I can't think of where else you would have seen me," he said unhelpfully. The Woman, rather than putting her coat back on, unwrapped her red scarf and left it on the back of her seat. This, of course, perplexed The Man, as she was getting comfortable rather than prepared to leave. The rest of the customers had paid their bills and filed out the door, but she stayed.

"All I know is that I have," she offered. The Man sighed with frustration. She offered him no help, and so, she was a lost cause. 

"Well then. I have to lock up, so..." he started. Thank god, she caught his meaning quickly.

"Of course! I'll get out of your hair, then," she replied quietly, grabbing the scarf and half-heartedly wrapping it back around her pale neck. 

Together, much to The Man's dismay, they locked up the little cafe and hurried down the cobblestone steps, as if they could outrun the harsh September wind. The Woman glanced over and offered him a little smile, as they coincidentally approached the same crosswalk. The Man didn't know what to say. She wasn't leaving him alone, she'd interrupted him during work, and now she was, whether intentionally or not, tailing him across town, where string lights were hung in careful rows. 

Christmas wasn't quite around, yet, but some happy-go-lucky residents of the neighborhood had hung up little amber bulbs to signify the start of autumn. It created a magical feel, sure, but the biting cold of the season made it hard for The Man to focus on any man-made "beauty." Of course, this woman was gazing at the lights as if they were stars descended from heaven, just for her. 

It was darker still, when The Woman's lights flickered. Dimmed. Faded out all together. God, wasn't she just bad luck?

"Oh!" she gasped, out of fright, grabbing the man's arm. He huffed, but didn't pull away. Of course, not only had the little lights gone out, but so had the porchlights of every house on the street. And the traffic lights. And the crosswalk. 

He sighed, gesturing forwards, towards their dark fate. The Woman nodded, arm still clamped around his. He looked left, right, then went for it. Together, they walked across the dim road, watching out for potholes, and made it to the other side. That's when she turned back, smiling but not saying anything. 

He gave her a curt nod, then started on his way, leaving the confusing evening behind. 

But before he knew it, The Woman had wandered back into the middle of the street, and through the little light they had left, he made out her stupid red scarf caught on the road. 

And that's when he heard the horn. 

And the scream. 

And then nothing. 

It was a few days later when he worked up the courage to visit the hospital. 

He walked in, asked the nurse for their "Jane Doe," the one from the Harvard drive accident, and was admitted into her room. There were no flowers in that cold hospital room. There were no cards. No one had claimed The Woman, no one had recognized her. But she was awake. The nurse saw him as soon as he came in, and with a grave look on her face, came over. 

 "Well as you can see, the physical damage is minor, thank God. Her leg is broken and she got a pretty bad blow to the head, and, well, she can't remember much."

 The Man's expression told all. 

 The nurse left, after that, and The Woman looked up from the little book she'd been reading. Her bruised face lit up when she saw him. 

 "Hello, do I know you?" she said carefully. He took a deep breath in. 

 "Yes."

 "You do?"

 "Oh, yes." 

Fin.