To My Dishonest Immortal

There is a woman in Greenwood who has always lived her life through misfortune. Calamity and disaster followed her like a shadow, and misfortune never once allowed her to catch her breath. And so, as if by some sort of guarantee, whenever her life was in imminent danger, some benefactor would appear as the savior. Saving her life in the process, he would then disappear like fog before he could share even one word of orientation of when, where, or how they met. [“How about just a little test — to see whether that encounter was mere coincidence or was some sort of destiny?”] And so, on one fateful day, immediately before a snapping train falling from the sky crushed her, there was again an appearance of that man who should by all rights never have appeared or existed — and again he took her from immediate peril and saved her life. “Will you at least tell me your name this time?” “Adrian. You can call me whatever you like.”