She walked by me as I sat nursing my cup of coffee alone at my table at the Sit ‘n Eat. Her black hair was swaying down her back, her glorious eyes large and enticing, her smile wide as she spoke delicately, “Could I borrow this chair?” And I guess I said yes because she thanked me and slid the chair over to her table where another man was seated.

That other man must be her brother. He must be consoling her over a messy break-up. That’s why this beautiful woman is here. She’s surely single, and interested in a mildly over-weight man sitting alone in a restaurant in the middle of the night on his 30th birthday. That has to be why she asked me for my chair. She is probably telling her brother that a cute guy sits behind her, how hopeful she is that he might be single too, and interested in her, this lonely, beautiful woman that radiates such loveliness in my world.

I’ll walk up to her and introduce myself, and she’ll tell me her name is, oh, Marian, and she’ll ask me to sit down, and then laugh embarrassed because there are no other chairs in the restaurant, and then I’ll laugh and say it’s all right, that standing in her presence is better than sitting alone. She’ll smile, her eyes moist, and her brother, sensing the connection, would stand, offer me his chair and welcome me in. He’ll leave smiling, knowing his sister is in good hands. Marian and I will then share a wonderful evening talking, talking, really communicating on a deeper level, I getting to know her, she me, and the two of us will leave the restaurant arm in arm gazing into each other’s eyes. She’ll step into my Pinto and I’ll drive her to her place, and she’ll invite me in using the old “Care for a nightcap?” line, and I’ll take her hand, and I’ll follow her in. She’ll pour the wine, I’ll take a sip, we’ll share a kiss.

And then we would hear the bedroom window smash, and we’d recoil in alarm, and, ducking behind the counter, I would hold her back with my arm saying, “Stay back, Marian! I’ll handle this!” And deftly crawling across the floor on my knees and elbows, I would peek through the bedroom door to see the two masked criminals with guns ransacking her room. I would rise up, find a baseball bat and, kicking the door open, I would rush the first criminal. With a death-thud, the first would be on the floor. The second, seeing his partner on the ground would feel the mortal danger. He would see the vengeance in my blood-thirsty eyes, so he would fire off a round at me as I’d slowly, menacingly approach. There would be no stopping me, despite the bullet in my shoulder, so his desperation would reach its peak and he’d back into a corner. I’d reach down to grasp the first criminal’s revolver and then I’d check it and curse finding the gun not loaded. Glancing back at the criminal, I would half-smile and reach into the gaping wound of my left shoulder and painlessly pull the bullet from the wound. I would insert the bloody bullet into the gun, cock it, and point it directly at the criminal’s face. In a menacing growl I’d say, “Drop your gun.” The criminal would faint before my feet.

And as I stumble back into the living room, I’ll hear the sound of sirens in the distance before collapsing at Marian’s feet. She’ll appear above me, tears streaming down her face as she sees my end is so near, and I place one hand on her cheek. And as I slip from this world she’ll know, she will truly know that I loved her, and there will be someone on this planet who’s life has been changed because of me, because I was there, because my presence on this planet has been taking up space for thirty years, and she’ll never be the same from then on out. She’ll carry my memory in her bosom and tell my story to her children and their children, and they’ll ask about me for years to come. I’ll live on in their memories, and she’ll thank her lucky stars she had the fortune of meeting me.

Whoever she is.

Aaron Steinmetz is the ‘word-renowned’ author of Sleepy P.I. and Highland High, two quirky comedies about a private investigator who doesn’t sleep until he closes his case.