The windshield wipers whished rhythmically as Kyle navigated the winding road through central France. The rain had just gotten heavy within the last mile or so as he wondered for the hundredth time what he was doing here. He turned the radio up in an attempt to drown away the memory of Becca's funeral. It had rained then too, had it only been a week.
Her illness was sudden and too much to bear at the time, he could still hear the beeping of the heart monitor and the swooshing of the respirator as the life support machines kept her body alive while she lay in a coma for three excruciating weeks. It nearly drove him over the edge of all reason when the doctors pronounced her brain dead. He could hardly register Becca's mom hugging him as she cried on his shoulder. It was left up to him to pull the plug on the woman he loved. The spirit of his wife was gone and all that was left was her body and those aweful sounds.
Suddenly there was a flash of light and Kyle instinctively jerked the wheel to get out of the way forgetting that he was on a wet treacherous stretch of road in a foreign country. The tires sqealed as he flew off the embankment into the trees. The airbags exploded as he bounced back in his seat. A soft voice called his name as he sank deeper into unconsciousness.
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