My boss at the restaurant needed to leave early, so I was closing up alone. I hated working late-- that was when all the drunks came in. Right before last call, a strange woman came through the door. She looked kinda like a hippy-- earthy, I guess-- with long dark hair and a flowing skirt. She slowly approached the counter and softly ordered a drink. I started to turn towards the bar when she grabbed my wrist with a cold hand. It seemed like her eyes were penetrating my soul, and she said, "I am sorry to hear about your father. He was a good man. He misses you, you know." I froze. We were still dealing with the loss of dad at home, and every day was filled with our sorrow. "Do I know you," I asked. This was when it got even weirder. With that same intense stare and cold grip, she said, "Dear, don't you remember? Think back to the life before this. We knew each other well. You were my dog. I forgot your leash, and you ran into the street. The car crushed your neck." Now, I would've thought she was completely insane at this point, but she had struck a nerve. My hand shot up to the mass of skin and bone at the back of my neck that no one had ever been able to figure out or diagnose. It had caused me a lifetime of pain, and my parents a fortune at the chiropractor's. I let go of her hand and backed away. In that instant, she was gone.

Hayleigh, FL