I’m sorry ‘bout what happened…” he finished sheepishly. “Is he going to be okay? How bad is he hurt?” she asked concernedly. “He wasn’t hurt much, but he went unconscious after we pulled him out of the car” he said. She lapsed into a morose silence and after a few minutes the man moved away, leaving her in a world of her own. Minutes passed and time drew on. She started wondering where the doctors were and wondered if anyone bothered to inform his family. She wondered if he even had a family. There was so much about him that she didn’t know. She wanted to know what she didn’t know as yet. She felt as though the rug was being tugged out from under her feet slowly. After about an hour and a half, a doctor approached her and she sat up, expecting the worst but hoping for the best. “Mrs. Devarr?” he asked her. Was Devarr Jeremy’s last name? She didn’t know. She just nodded. The doctor soldiered on. “Your husband came in earlier with minor bruises and cuts from an accident he sustained earlier tonight. He will recover from his wounds, but that all depends on if he lives to recover from them. Mr. Devarr is suffering from a brain tumour and he has lapsed into a coma. Chances of him coming out of it are not good, but these things are unpredictable. The illness is terminal, and in my professional opinion, due to his sustained injuries and head trauma, he will not survive tonight. I’m sorry.” The doctor closed his clipboard and walked on, leaving her in a daze. In the harsh glare of the doctor’s station, the word terminal hung on her. It was where she had met him, and now it was his condition. She sat down and let the tears fall, not caring who saw as the word “Terminal” echoed in her head. The lights above her glared on mercilessly as outside the clouds split and rain, once again, began to fall.