Life Stands Still

"Think fast!"

The whoosh of air sends my hairs standing on end. An axe whizzes past, embedding itself into the target.

Nancy bursts into laughter, her hands muffling the sound but failing to contain her amusement. It shifts from hearty laughter to snorts and squeals.

"Nancy Peters! That could've been fatal!"

She tries to stifle her giggles, seeing I'm genuinely upset. It reminds me of the time when we first started dating. She had once hopped onto the hood of my moving car, prompting me to shout her full name in shock. She'd looked at me with wide eyes, asking if I was turning into her dad. That incident ended with her admitting that no one had ever called her out like that before and that she liked it. That was the moment I fell for her.

"Babe, I'm sorry. I shouldn't laugh," she manages to say between giggles.

I slip on my jacket, still miffed. "Nancy , it's not funny."

"I know, I know. I just got carried away. You know I wouldn't actually hurt you," she says, bending to pick up her purse. The sight distracts me momentarily; her carefree nature always seems to temper my frustration.

"Let's just go," I say.

"Alright, baby."

We leave the Axe Bar behind, the upbeat tune of "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun" echoing in the mall. Nancy dances, her blonde curls twirling in rhythm. Her uninhibited joy is infectious, making it hard to stay mad.

"Hey, John?"

"Yeah?"

"Can we stay out a bit longer? My roommate's having friends over."

She's right; her roommate's gatherings are dreadfully boring. "Anything I want?"

She nods. "Promise."

"Well, there's always Putt-Putt next door."

"That sounds fun!"

Nancy 's not usually one for mini-golf. She prefers the adrenaline rush of activities like axe-throwing. Her eyes had sparkled earlier, a mix of excitement and mischief. "Just promise you won't try to hit the ball out of the park, okay?"

She blushes. "I promise."

We start playing, and to my surprise, she sticks to the rules. She laughs and smiles, seemingly enjoying just being with me. I start to wonder if she feels the same way I do.

But then, she spots a bridge with what she thinks are fish below. As I line up my shot, I hear a creak and see her leaning dangerously over the railing. Without thinking, I rush to pull her back. We both tumble onto the bridge.

"Nancy , you could've been seriously hurt!"

She laughs it off, angering me further. "Why do you keep risking your life like this? Do you not care about living?"

She approaches me, her face serious. "I love you too, John."

I'm taken aback. "What?"

"You stick by me no matter what. You see me for who I am, and you're still here. I love you for that." She leans in and kisses me, deep and meaningful.

I'm floored. Today, of all days, at Putt-Putt, she's said she loves me. She always knows how to keep me guessing. My anger melts away, replaced by a burning desire.

"Let's finish this," I say.

At the final hole, she promises not to move. She stands close, whispering, "I'm not going anywhere."

I focus on my shot, putting all my energy into it. The ball sails towards the windmill, a potential hole-in-one. But the windmill's sails suddenly speed up, knocking the ball into the air. I hear a thud and turn to see Nancy 's body slumping against me, a mark on her temple.

"Oh God, Nancy ! Stay with me!" Tears stream down my face as panic sets in. "You were supposed to keep dancing."

Her eyes flutter open briefly.

"John Hughes," she whispers before her body goes limp.

The world shatters around me as I hold her, praying she'll open her eyes and smile that carefree smile once more.