I was born Oliver Henderson in Chicago on December 23, 1989. I grew up a happy child; good parents, okay siblings, a few friends and a nice house to call home. On top of all that I had her in my life. Ever go outside after a spring thunderstorm, when the clouds have broken and the sun is shining through the remnants, casting everything in a warm hazy glow. The air still is full of energy, and tastes crisp and fresh; it fills your body with that charge of wonder. That was what I felt when I met her at six years old when her family moved next door.

This girl, my own age, with warm blood red hair and shining emerald eyes wearing a purple sundress and the biggest smile I had ever seen. And what did I do in my childish bravado. I came out from behind my mother as she introduced herself to the girl's mother and said look at the girl square in the face.

"Hello, You are my new best friend ever! Please marry me!"

The girl turned red and hid behind her mother's skirt and my mother grabbed me by the ear and pulled me into the house. In my defense, at the age of six, my concept of marriage and love was a lifelong friendship with a person of the opposite gender who you felt special about and never wanted to leave their side. Which was how I felt about the new girl next door. Why? I didn't know I just did. It took a month before the girl stopped avoiding me and we actually became friends. Her name was Camellia Ryan. And thus it began.

By our senior year of high school, we were talking engagement as we both were going to local colleges and had dating since 7th grade, only seriously starting in our sophomore year. We were happy and in love, looking forward to a life together, but fate played a different tune.

We were coming from the movies after seeing 30 Days of night for date night. We had been having a debate recently about vampires of all the dumb things. She likes the tragic romance characters of Anne Rice and Stephenie Meyer while I liked the savage monsters of Hellsing, Underworld and Blade. I got her to see this film by promising to go see Twilight with her next year when it came out. The sacrifices men do for love.

We were talking and walking to the 'L' to grab a train home. Suddenly, I heard a screech of metal on metal and shouting. Next thing I knew I had a truck laying on legs and something soft behind me. I tried to search for Camellia, but I couldn't see her anywhere. I shouted and cried her name and for help. It felt like hours, but was minutes. Then I hear a soft whisper behind me.

"Oliver, you are heavy." followed by a struggling weak laugh.

I tried to turn my head to see her, I realized I was laying on top of her, my head resting on her stomach. I fought to try and get my legs free, so I can get off of her. As I moved, the pain of my pinned legs screamed at me as I tried to pull them out; falling, only succeeding in tearing more flesh as my lower legs were crushed below the truck. I can see her face paling, as her breathing becomes more labored. Finally I tore my legs free of the truck, now leaves but ribbons of red mess below the knee. I scuttled over and pulled Camellia into my arms trying to see what was wrong. As I put my hand to her hair it came away wet and red slick with blood. I cried for help and it soon came. First bystanders who could not stand idle. The first man to discover me, puked at the sight of my legs. Lucky, an off-duty firefighter was the next man into the mess. He took his and pukeman's belts and made tourniquets to stem the bleeding from my stumps. Soon after, I heard the sirens, followed by the paramedics. I blacked out around there.

I woke up in the hospital with my parents there with tears in their eyes. I was in a haze, but I managed to say a few words.

"Where … is ….. She…?"

After that my mother broke into even more tears and I knew she was gone. The light in my world went out. The first few days after the accident I wished I was dead. First instead of her, then just wishing to join her. But my parents put a stop to that thinking as I could not hurt them like that, not when they were grieving Camellia alongside me. I did not want my mother to hurt anymore than she already did as Camellia was like the daughter she never had as my father had only given her me and my brothers.

I had lost both of my lower legs and had spinal damage which meant even with prosthetics, I could not walk again. Not that it mattered to me as the hole in my heart was more pressing to me than my absence of legs.

I spent weeks in that hospital bed, hating myself, the driver of the truck and just the world itself. That mindset led nowhere except deep into my grief. It was not until camellia's mother came to see me. When she saw me sitting there with eyes dead to the world, she slapped me across the face. That woke me up for the first time since I was told of Camellia's death.

"You have to live for her. You couldn't protect her so you got to carry her with you the rest of your life. Just giving up is too easy for you." And then she turned and left the room. As the door of the room closed behind her, I could hear her breaking into tears. I knew she was right. Me and her parents were all that was left of her memory in this world.

So I did what I could to cope. Mainly, a lot of dark humor about how I was half a man without her. I went to college, got my degree and found a good job at a successful company in the financial market. I worked my way up the corporate ladder ,and after seven years of work, I was deputy chief of finance in the Chicago branch of the company. I watched my brothers get married and have kids. I was a great uncle. I cried like a baby when my youngest brother named his first daughter Camellia. I spoiled that girl rotten.

Until One day, at lunch my assistant was pushing my wheelchair after lunch out with a client. I was thinking about some questionable numbers I had come across in the client files and some odd investments being by one of our brokers. Next thing, I knew I was rolled in traffic and run over by a truck. Fortunately, this time I didn't wake up to mind-numbing pain and crushed limbs. This time, I die on impact. I, Oliver Henderson, died at age 30, only loving one woman my entire life.

Now, I am floating in a black void, waiting on whatever afterlife comes next. I am hoping to see Camellia again. That would take some of the pain out of dying. Soon the landscape changes and I am now sitting on a den on a couch with an old man with a great white beard and a beer in hand sitting in an easy chair watching some type of arena fight on big screen tv.

"So you are the unfortunate bastard who met truck-kun twice in one lifetime. I have to say you're one tough customer pulling your own legs off to try and save your soulmate. Man, talk about grand gestures. Too bad, she died and has already entered the cycle of reincarnation. Probably, take a few lifetimes for you kids to meet again."

"So is this the afterlife or something else? And what do you mean a 'few' lifetimes to meet Camy again. Are you not supposed to be reunited with your loved ones in the afterlife, you know like heaven and all that ? And who are you anyway?" I questioned, feeling unamused over the casual tone of my host.

" Well, my friends call me Bob, though that's not my name. I have forgotten it, so it must have been all that important. And as for what this is, it is a little pocket realm in the afterlife. And heaven and hell are more general mental constructs than anything else. When a person dies, they become a purely spiritual being, free of the restraints of the mortal world at least here in the afterlife. So the mental state of a person, their dreams, wishes, regrets and guilt inform the shape of their reality here. Of course, there are ways in which people can enact with each other if they seek that. To prevent issues from happening there are administers here in the afterlife and I am one of those technically." explained Bob. I am not sure of what he is saying, but most of it was over my head.

"What do you mean technically? And what's this about Camellia entering the cycle of reincarnation? And why will it take lifetimes for me to find her?"

"I am kind of on hiatus for the past few eons. Not sure if the boss even still remembers me. As to your partner entering the cycle of reincarnation, well there are two ways that happens; either a soul chooses to enter or is chosen. I believe she was chosen to enter due to the young age of her death. The problem of reuniting is due to the loss of memory when you enter the cycle and the randoms of worlds to which the souls are sent. You could by waiting tens to thousands of years here for her due the different lifespans of the sentient beings she could have been reborn as on thousands of different worlds. And when she does return she will not have her old memories of you. A little safety measure that keeps souls sane due the despair of the infinite. I mean there is only so much you can do before you have done everything there is to do."

"So is talking to me new or have we met before? I mean my previous self?"

"yes , and no. We talked yes, but this time I think I might just give you a hand in finding her faster, if not immediately after this. I might be able use an old bug to get you to her current incarnation without you entering the cycle of rebirth. I might be able to even give a little early wedding gift to you two lovebirds."

"Okay, so what do I need to do."

"Just stand still, this might tickle a bit." Bob said with a grin, and I knew this was going to hurt when it saw it. Bob took up from under the big screen, a box marked 'failure. Do not open. Destroy if possible.' and from this box, he pulled out a cracked and buzzing globe.

"What's that? And why is it cracked" I was panicking over the fact that crack looked like it was held together with chewing gum and tape.

"This is the bug I removed from the cycle during our first test run. Most of the admins thought it was too dangerous so I have been babysitting ever since. But I think its time to let this bad boy out for a walk." The next moment, he is pushing the thing into my chest. And I am burning and the world is going black again. "Good luck, Oliver. Put on a good show."

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