Being next door neighbors didn't mean being close. You and John had known each other in passing over the years. Shared glances and nods in the hallway in high school, Christmas cards from each of your families in college, congratulations letters written to each other after specialty school graduations, at your parents' behests. Nothing more, nothing less. It feels, in this moment more than ever, that it was like fate pushed you in his direction today.

After a night of hanging out with a group of your friends, the car you were all pooling in came to a screeching halt, as you believed that something horrible had happened. The poor soul tasked with driving had hit what was assumedly a dog. Little did you know...

So, now, here you were. Back in Chicago from your friends' wedding preparations with a deep dog bite on your ribs. What a lovely start to the summer. Just your luck that John recognizes you almost immediately, his eyes widening at the blood and viscera on your face and chest and sheets. "Is— is that really you?"