Martin leaned forward in his chair, ignoring the flashing black and white images on the television to examine the German cuckoo clock mounted on the gray floral wallpaper. "It's eight, Sharon, where are you?"

Bang! Bang! Bang!

"Now, why would Sharon knock on the door like that?" Martin wondered, standing from his chair. He strode to the door and turned the handle.

"Mr. Martin Porter?"

"Yes, how may I help you, officer?"

The policeman removed his hat and held it to his chest. "Um, Mr. Porter may I come in?"

Martin was perplexed. "Certainly," he said, opening the door for the officer. "Have a seat."

"Thank you. Mr. Porter," the man said and then sat down on the pink sofa across from Martin. "I don't know how to say this..." the young man blinked.

"Just say it, son, what is it?"

"It's your wife, Sharon."

"Is she okay?"

"I hate to inform you sir, she died in an accident on Highway 66 while driving home." The police officer said, bottom lip quivering.

"Died?"

The policeman nodded. "I'm so sorry, sir. She's gone."

Martin closed his eyes as an icy coldness washed over him like a winter gust and he tumbled forward from his chair.

The policeman launched from his seat to catch Martin before he hit the ground. The officer eased the unconscious man gently to the floor and patted his face. Mr. Porter? Mr. Porter..."

"...Mr. Porter? Aw, look at how handsome you are!" said the strange woman in odd clothing. "You fought us like crazy while we got you dressed this morning."

"Who are you?"

"I'm Tina, your nurse, although you probably don't remember me right now," the woman said with a smile.

"Where am I?"

"Pelican View Nursing Home, Mr. Porter, and we are about to go visit your wife, Sharon. It's your anniversary."

"Sharon?"

"Yes, your wife."

Martin smiled. "We're gonna see Sharon?"

The woman smiled sweetly and nodded. "Alright, Mr. Porter, let's lift your feet up and undo the brakes. Here we go!" the nurse sang, slowly turning the wheelchair around toward the door.

"Wait!" the man exclaimed.

"What's wrong, Mr. Porter?"

"Who is that over there?"

"Where? Oh, in the mirror? That's you."

The man stared blankly at the wrinkled reflection. "Where did my life go?" he asked aloud.