It was so cold that I couldn’t remember what warmth felt like. Before me, was a wood-burning stove with a pile of matchsticks inside. Fire. That’s what I needed. I could start the fire; I just needed more matches. Behind me was a doorway.

I dragged my feet away from the stove and stumbled toward the other room. There was a window near the threshold. Beyond it was a dense fog that concealed much of the landscape. Tree-shaped silhouettes were all that was visible beyond a snow-covered clearing. No moon hung in the sky, but the howl of wolves sounded in the distance.

Retreating from the window, nondescript kitchen elements were all around me. Drab countertops, a worn table surrounded by dusty chairs, and a tired refrigerator-stove combo. I checked the cabinet drawers and found more matchbooks which I hastily struck upon my return to the stove.

One after another I tried to light them until finally, the very last match of the bunch sprouted a tiny flame. I gingerly set it atop the pile. It fizzled, but a glowing ember remained.

Triumph at the sight emboldened me and the prospect of warmth within my grasp added to it. I couldn’t stand the cold any longer, but a sense of foreboding loomed as distant howls grew closer.

I awoke in my bed. My body was stiff, no doubt from the chill that followed me from dreamland. Wait—no. My limbs felt restricted.

Removing the covers revealed a plethora of bandages. I looked like a mummy wearing underwear. My inspection was interrupted by a rustling from the other room, causing me to gasp.

“An intruder,” I whispered to myself.

I tried to jump to my feet but got tangled in the sheets. My face absorbed the impact with the floor. Unfortunately, all of the soiled clothing that I’d meticulously placed everywhere wasn’t there to cushion my fall. The footsteps drew nearer.

I had to get up to defend myself, but instead I wrestled with the boa constrictor-like bedding. The door opened and I froze.

“What the heck are you doing?” a sultry voice asked. It was either sultry or annoyed, I couldn’t tell.

A woman of average height with Asian features in a naughty nurse costume stood in the doorway with her arms crossed. Shawn had to be making up to me for his irritating existence, but I wasn’t sure how he knew about this particular fantasy.

“Well, hello there,” I said with a grin. She rolled her eyes and let out an exaggerated sigh.

“Dale sent me to take care of you.” My grin widened. She pinched the bridge of her nose. “No, not like that. My name’s Leah. I’m his wife.” My smile faded.

“Oh. So, that isn’t a naughty nurse costume then?”

“No. They’re my scrubs,” she said. “And you just lost me a bet.” I quirked an eyebrow. She sighed again. “Dale bet that you’d say something pervy as soon as you woke up. I couldn’t imagine someone in your condition acting like a perv when he came to, so I took that bet. I should have known.” Shock crossed my face.

“How was I acting like a perv?”

“You know how.” I blinked a few times, then averted my gaze.

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

“Wait... Dale never mentioned a wife,” I said.

“Of course he didn’t. He doesn’t tell anyone. He doesn’t want to ruin his ‘street cred’. Like anyone would believe that he’s a player.”

“Oh. That makes sense.” I wanted to know more about my baller best friend, but I remembered that I was still all wrapped up, so I started unraveling myself.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Uhh…getting up?”

“You can’t. Your legs are broken.”

“Nah, they’re fine.”

“They are not fine,” she said. I prodded my legs, then looked up at her like I had no idea what she was talking about. “Look, I don’t know what your deal is, but Dale insisted, ‘no hospitals.’ Something about the mob? Whatever. I don’t care. I set your bones, but you need to go to a hospital to get x-rays and have them set properly.”

“Good thinking, Dale,” I said ignoring most of what she said. Just to make sure, I checked my organs with my inner sight. They seemed fine, too. And my brain…? I stood up, to Leah’s horror, and started jumping up and down.

“See? I’m totally fine; as fit as a pole vaulter before missing their mark and getting impaled by their pole.” Morbid. Brain’s fine too.

“That’s… How?” she asked. I replied by hacking blood into my hand. “Oh my god!” She rushed to my side, but I waved her away.

“Relax. That’s normal,” I said, wiping blood off my lips.

“That is not normal.”

“Really?” I said, before adding, “Then you should probably give me a full physical.” I caught myself before I winked.

What the doom? She was a married woman—married to Dale no less. He could wring me out like a blood-filled rag at a crime scene. It dawned on me then. I had checked my body, but not my soul. As soon as I looked within, I was hit with the scent of roses.

My soulscape was a beautiful garden filled with pink flowers. Cherubs with bows and heart-tipped arrows flew to and fro, cute little bees were kissing, and a butterfly landed on my finger. To my left was a path made of heart-shaped paving stones. I couldn’t resist following it.

All along the side of the path were buffet tables covered in rose petals and I marveled at their spreads. Chocolate covered strawberries, boxes of Valentine’s Day chocolates (only the good ones), and there was even a chocolate fountain. The path led to a pink building with a heart-shaped entrance. I opened the door but was not expecting what I saw inside.

Across the room was a window with an incredible view of downtown, but my attention was drawn to a disco ball hanging from the ceiling. It cast a lemonade-colored light over a lounge chair with a side table that had a massive cup of coffee and a cherry pie on it. I took a step inside to sit and think about my situation, but as soon as I entered, I got a whiff of something.

“Ugh. Smells like sex…and candy.” I left, closing the door behind me.

A bright light brought me back to reality. Leah was waving a flashlight in my face. I knocked it away.

“Stop that.”

“I think you have a concussion.”

“I don’t have a concussion. I was just looking at my soul,” I said. “It was kind of like a dream.”

“You were looking at your soul… yeah. You should definitely lay down.”

“Knock it off. Look.” I flexed my bodacious bod. “See? I’m completely fine.” She stared at me.

“What am I looking at?”

“What do you mean, ‘What am I looking at’? I’m the perfect human specimen,” I said. “Actually, I’m kind of hungry. Can we order some pizza?”

She stared at me in disbelief.

“What?” I asked.

She shook her head furiously. “What is wrong with you?”

“What do you mean?”

“What do you mean, ‘what do you mean’?! When I got here you were covered in blood and your legs were broken. Dale said you’d be fine because you’re a magical pixie.”

“Hey!”

“I argued with him, but he wouldn’t back down. He always backs down. So, against my better judgment, I listened. I did what I could, but when you started coughing up blood, I told him that you had to go to the hospital. I couldn’t believe that he still insisted. He laughed and said the mob was out to get you.”

I nodded.

“Out of nowhere, you woke up demanding cheese pizzas from Pietro’s. When they got here, you’d sit up to eat, but you were snoring while you ate. Every few hours, you’d wake up demanding more pizza. You owe me for like—20 pizzas by the way. And now you get up and start jumping up and down like your legs weren’t broken three days ago. What the fuck is going on?”

“Language!”

She threw up her hands. “Oh my god. I can’t even right now.” As she stormed out of my room, I rushed after her.

“Wait! Don’t go,” I pleaded. She whirled on me.

“What?!”

“Could you order me another pizza before you go? I’m a bit short on cash.”