(Two months later)
Sara took a deep breath and stepped into her immaculate bathroom.
Of course her father had taken care of the clean up, and when she stepped in front of the sink her reflection was bright and clear in the new mirror that had replaced the old shattered one.
She stared at her image for a few moments hoping to see a set of blue eyes that she knew wouldn't appear. She had suffered a mental break down, or at least that was the explanation given by the numerous doctors her father had brought in.
And the dreams had stopped, yes, immediately after she had come out of her catatonic state, if that was indeed what it had been. To Sara it had seemed real; Michael had seemed real. She still remembered it as if it were only yesterday.
But Sara had fought with them and herself on this for far too long. Finally she had told them what they wanted to hear even though she was unsure of her own beliefs on the matter. Yes, despite her still troubled thoughts she had told them she understood; that she would take the antidepressants as prescribed. She just wanted to go home. She was tired of the constant poking and prodding; the intrusive daily question of how are we today, Dr. Tancredi? But now that she was here, she wasn't so sure. Maybe she had made a mistake coming home so soon? She felt the walls closing in on her and took a deep breath, telling herself she was fine.
"I'm fine" she repeated softly to her reflection. "I'm fine".
She watched the anxiety leave her features.
After a few more deep breaths she sighed softly and left the bathroom.
She was placing her empty suitcase in the closet when she saw the plastic bag lying on the floor. It was a bag from the hospital she had first been admitted to after her break down. She fished it out and set it on the bed. Her father must have brought this here, she figured.
Shortly after awakening he had insisted she be moved to a private facility; someplace she could heal. So within the hour Sara had been dressed and on her way, leaving behind the contents of this bag apparently.
She dumped it onto the bed and stared at the robe and pajamas. And then reaching gingerly she slid a hand into the pocket. She felt her breath leave her as her fingers froze against the small folds of the paper flower.
And then reminding herself to breath, she pulled her hand out. She stared at what couldn't possibly be; what the doctors said couldn't possibly be and then brought the small flower to her nose.
She closed her eyes as its fragrance filled her senses, reminding her of the many thousands of flowers in the field of roses she had visited with Michael.
Sara stood like that for some time and then opened her eyes half expecting the rose to be gone, but it still remained, clutched gently in her hand.
"It was real", she whispered softly. "It was real".