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was early one morning while watching the news when I was informed that a nineteen-year-old Washington University student was hit by a car and rushed to the hospital where she was in critical care. You can imagine my shock when I recognized the name.”
    “Hallelujah!” he heard with a startle. “You’re the only person that was watching the news that morning, apparently. None of my friends had even heard about the accident. How does a local student almost die and no one find out about it? I was beginning to think they did away with local news around here.”
    “I’m sure a lot of people heard about it. The fact is, it would have been a much bigger story had you actually died.”
    “Thanks.” A joint laugh. Then another thoughtful pause. “But wouldn’t you have thought it strange if a schoolmate just up and disappeared?”
    “Actually, it happens more often than you think,” he replied. “Students drop out all the time. Family issues, money strain, a change in priorities; there isn’t a group any more transient than college kids. So no, I don’t think it would have been all that strange. Were these friends close friends of yours?”
    “My one friend, Liz, we were as close as you can get after two semesters of hanging out.”
    “Roommates?”
    “Well, no.”
    He imparted a gentle smile. “You shouldn’t feel too bad,” he said lightly. “She probably felt worse when you left without saying goodbye.”
    The comment brought some closure to a few nagging questions.
    “How is life treating you these days?” he asked.
    “Do you want the standard answer? Or the truth?”
    “The truth has always been my preference.”
    “Okay, you asked for it.”
    Professor imparted a dubious smirk.
    “I like my classes. My appetites back. I’m feeling strong. I’ve even started running again. And Creed and Liz have been awesome.”
    “That’s wonderful. I’m happy for you, Heather.”
    “Yeah. It is wonderful. Thank goodness I’m not desperately in love with a guy who hates me and won’t talk to me and is getting married in a few months.”
    Professor’s face turned casually amused. “Yes, that would be bad.”
    “And believe me, it’s not due to lack of effort on my part. But the harder I try, the more I can’t stop thinking about him.” The sentences connected together as if Professor hadn’t said anything in between them. “It’s driving me crazy. And the funny thing is, I think maybe I could have let go before the coma and the reflection-dreams. Maybe. Probably not, but maybe. Not now, though. Not when he’s so much a part of my life. Not when I’ve felt for so long how right it feels to be with him. Not when I’ve been dreaming about him for forever. We have to belong together, don’t we? But now he belongs to someone else. And I don’t know what to do. I act like it doesn’t bother me. But truthfully? I’m dying inside—”
    “First things first,” he effectively interjected. “Who’s the imposter?”
    Eyebrows stitched together. “I’m not sure what you mean by that.”
    “It sounds to me like you don’t remember who you are. I used to know a Heather who was a strong, capable girl, a warrior of sorts, brave in the face of adversity and independent in her gentle resolve. The Heather I remember was happy not because of the world around her, but in spite of it. So I ask you again, who’s the imposter? Or have you forgotten who you are?”
    “ I haven’t forgotten. I’m just…I’m confused.”
    “Then get un-confused. Start over. Rekindle that passion you used to have for life.”
    “I don’t know, Professor. Maybe I’m not the same person. Maybe I have forgotten who I was, who I am, what I’m all about.”
    “What of your love for fixing things? And the business you wanted to start with antique pieces.”
    A completely forgotten memory, the love of taking old things apart and putting them back together. In fact, in the corner of the new basement apartment is the refurbished