Twenty third.

     Confabulations. She was lying wondering on the hospital bed, to fill in gaps in memory. By fabrication. No, but she was sure she had felt that strong emotional surge just before they hit the barricade. Was it for real? Or was it really a confabulation?
     However hard she tried to remember what he was saying or was going to say, she couldnt think of anything. Not even enough to fabricate the rest. When you are put into a fix, you start loving your original dull life. She never realised she had wanted him, because she never wanted to realise it.  But now, if he was about to confess his love, she was sure of her decision. It would be something she was since long been waiting for. It was enough to turn her world upside down.
     Usually there's a nurse standing near the patient when she regains consciousness, but that happens only in movies, she thought. She was desperately waiting for someone to enter. Someone who could tell her that he was as fine as she was. Even if the thing he was talking about before the crash was his dead dog. Even if it was about the bad weather. Even if it was about the recession. Even if she wasn't the girl he had fallen for. She would let him walk out of her life.
     She wanted the surge to be true. But there was so much risk in it. Risk, if she wasn't the one. Risk, even if she was the one. The one with no courage to take the risk. She rather wished he would walk back, smile at her and say it was nothing. Just a confabulation.