[ WP ] Every time you die , you are transported to the time of the first event that ultimately caused your death . One day , you are hit by a car and sent 12 years into the past .

As I careened my car into oncoming traffic, I knew I would wake up. I had lived this day exactly like this only once, but I had lived the last 12 years thousands of times. I lost count so many centuries ago, but it always started in the same place, and it always ended more or less like this. The method was different; sometimes it was a gun to my head, or a little too much time spent on train tracks, but this was my favorite. It was so easy to shift the wheel and close my eyes. 
 
 I knew the basic premise of my curse: I ’ d relived countless other little moments before in my life—I ’ d mistakenly walked into traffic, and flashed back to that morning. I ’ d been in an airplane crash, and gone back to the day I bought the ticket. Each time, I had the opportunity to fix my mistakes, but those were simple. It ’ s easy to look before you step, or buy a different ticket. It ’ s a lot harder to let go of 12 years of your life and start over. Nine of those years would be perfect, and three would be hell. I spent centuries fine-tuning and tweaking small details to try to alter that fate and prevent what I knew would always hit me one day: the misery that would turn into a compulsion to die. 
 
 I woke up in my bed, in my apartment. The first day was always painful, but sweet: the residual injuries always left me sore, but the depression and anxiety were lifted. It was a cruel prank the universe played on me: Zoloft had nothing on time travel. My outfit for the day had been picked out for a thousand years already. It needed to be sexy but work-appropriate. I slid the dress off the hanger, and threw on a sweater I already knew I ’ d remove later. My hair was curled, and my makeup was applied skillfully, with more practice behind my hand than you could imagine. I threw on a pair of kitten heels—sexy but not too tall—before heading out the door. 
 
 Work was exactly what I expected. I was new, and trained with Claire, but she was always so surprised how quickly I picked everything up. I would be a star employee in a few months, and she ’ d be passed over for a management position because of me in a couple years. Sometimes I took the offer, and sometimes I didn ’ t, but for now we were friends. I surprised her with lunch, and she ’ d ask me to go with her to happy hour at a little club nearby. Her boyfriend was a singer in a crappy cover band, and she was always dragging coworkers along to hear him play. 
 
 At 5:07 pm, we finished our work for the day and I followed her around the corner. I took my sweater off and draped it over my bag, and got out of the car. 
 
 “ You ’ re going to love them! I know it. Dan and his band have been playing here for years and everyone just loves them. His voice is raspy, and sexy, and… ” I never heard the end of that sentence, always drowned out by bar noise. It was dark and crowded but I knew exactly where she was headed and followed with ease. The cigarette smoke weighed heavy in my throat, but I breathed deep anyway. It felt good to be back here, in this moment. The familiar taste of weed-stuffed Black & Mild ’ s felt like home on my tongue. 
 
 Claire dragged me to the corner closest to the stage and I ordered a single-malt scotch on the rocks. I ’ d wanted to seem sophisticated the first time we came here, but as the years bore on I began to enjoy the flavor. I didn ’ t choke it down; I sipped, smoothly and calmly, relishing every sensation. This did only come once ever 12 years, after all. As I sat at the bar, I mulled the next few moments and the choices I would have to make. In truth, I knew what the universe wanted me to change. The catalyst had been obvious the first time I flashed back, but I never took the path the fates laid out for me. I had been searching for another way out for as long as I could remember. I would change anything else. Anything but this. 
 
 The bartender poured me another drink and I waited for George to find me, as he always did. I couldn ’ t hear him approach, but I knew the exact second he would, and my body relaxed knowing he was here with me once more. It had been years since we ’ d spoken, but I could see his face like a painting in my mind, young again. I didn ’ t have to turn to see his smile, all sunshine and dimples as his hand brushed my shoulder. I simply leaned back and let him whisper, “ Would you like to dance? ” 
 
 I knew what I should have done, but this moment was worth it. Every time. 

