Sal was in love.

A part of her felt that she'd always been in love, and almost each time with a different man. But this time she knew it was real. For this man, she'd been in love with twice.

Sal had first met Harold two years ago, when he was about to be hit by a falling piano. That was when she'd known it was love most true, love most divine.

If Sal possessed anything close to an introspective nature, she may have realised that each and every time she fell in love, it was with someone on the brink of tragedy, most often death.

There was Timothy, who had been diagnosed with cancer mere seconds before Sal had realised that their love was true and eternal. There was Michael, who had just found out that the mob had a hit out on him, and when he'd told Sal, she'd almost fallen to her knees and wept at the power of their love.

And now, when she saw Harold unwittingly walk into the path of a runaway train, she'd realised that this was love most tender, most pure. She'd realised that she wanted to spend the rest of her life with Harold (or at least the rest of his life) - she wanted to be with him always, and share their deepest innermost thoughts and desires.

Sal's hand went into her pocket, where the ring sat. She'd bought it on a whim, almost a decade ago, when she'd heard about a natural disaster taking out half of a city. Her heart had pined, she'd vowed to make sure that she always followed the path of love, and she'd walked into the nearest jewellers and purchased an engagement ring.

Now, at last, the opportunity to use it had come. Now, at last, she could enter into that most sacred covenant, pure bliss, the most holy of ceremonies.

Now, at last, she could get married.

She stepped forward to propose to Harold, who she hadn't seen in so many years. She stepped forward to profess her love.

But bvefore she could, a train hit h