Ex-Love Hurts

“Why would I lie to you, doc. No one wants to know what happened more than me.”

“What’s the last thing you recall, Roger?” asked Dr. Wendy Grace.

“I was doing my usual afternoon run. No aches, no pains, feeling great.”

He tried to sit up, but was prevented by stabbing pains in his chest.

“Lie back, Mr Foley. You’ve got two severely bruised ribs. So, you were having a good run. And then?”

“I don’t remember what happened next, doc. Just waking up here. What’s wrong with me?”

“Well, aside from those bruised ribs, your upper right cheek is also bruised, meaning you’re going to have a pretty good black eye for a few days. And you must’ve slid a bit once you landed because your bottom lip was pretty torn up and required five stitches.”

“But the interesting thing,” she continued, “is that your hands and arms exhibited no defensive trauma, which means you were unconscious before you even started to fall.”

“But why? What happened? Did I faint or something?”

At that moment a policewoman carrying an IPad entered the room. “How’s he doing, Dr. Grace?”

“Well enough to answer your questions. But keep it brief.”

“Listen Roger, several houses across from where you were found have security cameras. Our tech people stitched the videos together. It's pretty strange. Have a look.”

The IPad showed Roger jogging normally when suddenly a small, black saucer-shaped object flew down behind him and appeared to shoot a thin blue light at the back of his head. Roger went down, and the object up and away.

Roger nearly jumped off the bed. “Darlene, you… YOW!” he cursed in pain.

“Easy, Roger," said the officer. "Who's Darlene?”

“My ex-girlfriend. She in weapons development for the CIA.”