People always asked why you were so battered-up, and, frankly, you couldn't really tell them why. It was your soulmate. He was either some sort of mob boss, or just incredibly clumsy; you were waking up with something new each day.

And you had no way of finding out who they were.

Until one night you returned from work, a cool breeze running through your apartment, and a bust-up guy in your bathroom, bleeding from the same wound you'd found yourself bleeding only half an hour ago.