I was walking and got clipped by a truck. It’s okay. I was checked out fine.

 

Left the hospital and was nearly hit by a piano. The worker below apologized profusely.

 

I started down the sidewalk, but there was a truck, and it was headed directly for me. I rolled and dodged as the truck smashed through two parked cars, hitting the building.

 

After the cops told me that there was no one in the driver's seat, I started to walk home. It was conveniently only two blocks from the hospital.

 

There was a reason for this.

 

My entire life, something had been chasing me. What that thing was, I had become certain of.

 

Death.

 

There was no easy way to put it. 

 

Everywhere I went, chaos followed. 

 

Anywhere I was, something would try to kill me. Sounds crazy, and it was. I had been to doctors, shamans, priests, and anyone that I thought might understand what was going on with my life.

 

Every place that I went, I was cast out as problems started before I could even utter a word. This forced me to keep myself closed off from the rest of the world. I had become so attuned to the danger that I expected it at every turn.

 

It turned out that it really was waiting for me around every corner.

 

I walked away from the scene of the crime and let out a tired sigh. I was tired.

 

I was thirty-two now, and I just wanted to let my guard down, but I lived by Murphy's Law. If anything can go wrong, it will. The only way to combat this is to be prepared for every situation. Murphy only had power if you didn't cover all your bases.

 

And that is what I did.

 

My eyes were everywhere as I walked the last block to my apartment block. I skipped over every crack, taking the time where I needed it.

 

Two birds swooped directly at my head, and a person holding more knives than I could count almost ran into me. Somehow, I was able to make it home in one piece.

 

This was everyday life for me, but it didn’t stop at my apartment building's door.

 

I pulled out a rubber glove and used my key to open the door to get into the building. I had been shocked badly by a short circuit on the panel that unlocked the door and was hospitalized for a week. I took no chances.

 

I held dearly to my scrap that I called life. I might be unlucky, but I didn’t want to die.

 

I watched where I stepped, but I made sure to dart past each door as I moved through the hall. I lived on the first floor, but I never knew what might come out of each doorway.

 

There was one time that a man appeared out of a door with a massive firework that had more ignition than I had brain cells, I was sure. I was forced to run it outside after the man told me he wasn’t sure what to do with it. Like I knew what to do, but the man had been insistent, and I didn’t want my bad luck to hurt others. 

 

I made it outside, but now I had a scar that streaked up my cheek. Women thought the scar looked cool. I mean, that was until they came out for a date with me and nearly died. 

 

That was a surefire way to end any romance.

 

I reached my door and put in the code to open it. I had another near miss with an electrical shock, so I was especially careful now.

 

I walked into my apartment and sighed in relief as I locked the door behind me. It was a small one-bedroom that barely fit my needs, but it was home. My safe haven from all the madness that followed me around like a bad smell.

 

I went to my fridge and pulled out a beer before collapsing on my couch. It had been another long day, and I just wanted to relax for a bit before bed. 

 

The television turned on by itself, blaring static at full volume. I just rolled my eyes.

 

The world seemed to flow around me like chaos incarnate, but everything outside of my bubble was normal. It was almost like I wasn't supposed to exist.

 

I flicked the television off and took a long pull from my beer. I was about to close my eyes when there was a knock on my door.

 

I got up slowly, making sure that whatever was on the other side wasn't going to kill me. I had a gun in my hand just in case as I moved to the door.

 

I looked through the peephole and saw one of my neighbors standing there with a casserole dish in her hand. Mrs. Wilkinson was an old woman who liked to take care of everyone in the building. She had been trying to set me up with her granddaughter for months now.

 

I put the gun away and opened the door cautiously. "Hi, Mrs. Wilkinson."

 

"Oh, hello, dear," she said with a smile as she held out the casserole dish. "I made extra lasagna tonight and thought you might like some."

 

I took the dish from her and tried not to grimace. Mrs. Wilkinson was a terrible cook, but she meant well. "Thank you."

 

"You're welcome, dear," she said as she started to walk away. "Oh, and don't forget about my granddaughter's party this weekend. It would be a shame if you couldn't make it."

 

I forced a smile on my face. "I'll try to make it."

 

She smiled back before walking down the hall to her apartment. I shut the door and sighed as I looked at the casserole dish. There was no way that I was going to eat that, but I didn't want to hurt her feelings either. Maybe I could give it away tomorrow or something. 

 

I put the dish in the fridge and went back to my beer on the couch. I turned on the television again, flipping through channels mindlessly before stopping on some mindless action movie. It was just what I needed after today, but before I could get comfortable, there was another knock, but harder this time.