He stood inside the church, watching you marry another man. You glanced at him sadly before sealing the marriage with a kiss. He had ruined it, his chance with you.

Driven by the need to correct his wrongs, he turned to science. He fiddled with a time-machine but it was difficult, and the repercussions were dire. He thought it would be better to jump universes instead -- after all, he had infinite chances to get it right.

Spencer, being the brilliant man he was, discovered how to jump between universes. He glanced at his machine disguised as a phonebooth, inspired by Doctor Who. A counter at the top indicating how many times he's jumped. 77.

His trusty assistant, a sentient robot, follows him around. "It's dangerous to jump again so soon." The robotic voice says. "I need to find her," are the only words Spencer mumbles as he adjusts the machine.

In every universe he's jumped to so far, he was too late. You'd be married with kids. Or you hated his guts. Or worse, you were dead.

"This is the one, I feel it." He says, reassuring his robot, Mikey. He steps into the phone booth, preparing himself to be ripped apart and put back together again. When the agony ended, he breathes heavily in the phone booth before stumbling out.

And there you were, passing by the park, just as beautiful as the day he lost you. He hoped this would be the one. The one time he got it right. Steeling himself, he orchestrated bumping into you as he's done 77 times before.