Our Mercedes plunged through the middle divider of the freeway, and skidded across to the other side. The front end of the car crumpled and the windshield imploded, showering the inside with deadly shards of glass. I woke up in a daze trying to comprehend what had just happened. I could smell smoke; the car was filled with fumes that caked my throat and made my eyes water. I frantically searched for the latch that was keeping me pinned down in the car. As hot flames engulfed the inside I began to cough and my lungs burned in agony. The seat belt unlatched and I was able to free myself, so I could save Sarah.
I reached over to where she sat. She was not moving. Then through the smoke I saw her. Blood dripped down from the gashes in her face and a piece of metal impaled her stomach. She was gone. I started to feel weak and nauseous, and my mind began to slow. The inside of the car began to dim as I slipped in and out of consciousness. The last thing I remembered was Sarah’s eyes closing for the last time. The next thing I knew I was yanked from the car and everything turned black.
I woke up in a hospital, nurses bustling around on the checkered linoleum that always seemed to be perfectly clean. I asked the nurse about Sarah and all she could do was slowly shake her head and walk away.
She was my angel, who was abruptly taken away from me. She had the most beautiful eyes. Ones that I would get lost in. They were a deep blue, like the heart of a candle flame. Every day I came home from my work, I would look her directly in her eyes. And every time I saw a glimmer of love, the same glimmer that I saw on our wedding night. She was perfect.
After a week of being pricked and prodded by nurses, similar to what I did to others as a plastic surgeon, they told me it was time to go home. I stepped out of the hospital, but nothing seemed the same. The sun was out, but it was not shining. The birds were out, but they were not chirping.
I slid into bed in the sleep pants that Sarah bought for me last Christmas. That night the bed never felt so large. Before going to sleep I looked at her picture that sat on my nightstand and started to cry, harder than I ever had before. I would never be able to look into her eyes again and now I was alone. Utterly alone.
I woke up in the middle of the night and reached over to where Sarah should have been. I felt her side and it was cold.
After a week of grieving it was time for me to start working again. Since my car was still in the shop, I decided to take the bus. It was eight in the morning when I hopped on the bus and chose the aisle seat nearest to the exit. Glancing at my watch, I realized I was going to be late to see my first patient of the day. I then turned my attention to the rest of the passengers.
From my seat I was able to see everyone around me. Half of the passengers were still sleeping, nodding off like old men. A woman came in a few minutes later and sat down in the seat across from me.
I glanced in her direction and something about her caught my eye, but I was unable to pinpoint what it was. I didn’t pay much attention to it and went on with my day. I began taking the bus every day. After weeks of sitting in the same seat and looking at the same woman, it hit me. She had the same eyes as my wife. Her eyes had the same deep blue color that made me weak at the knees. I became obsessed with her. Every time I closed my eyes I saw those eyes staring at me. I made sure I sat across from her, so I could have that quick eye contact with her, with those eyes. I could not control my urges. She had to be mine, she had to become Sarah.
Finally, I gathered up the courage and asked her, “Can I make you perfect?”