Even beyond death

The wind stings my exposed cheeks. The sky is dark, as though it knows what today means. I turn my coat collar up to preserve a bit of my warmth. The lake is dark, just like the sky. Just like that day.
Why did this happen to me? We were so close. We almost had it all. I still have the ring. I take it everywhere with me. I don't know why.
I brush my hair out of my eyes and watch the ducks climb out of the chilly water. What had she said about the ducks? That they're always there. No matter what happens, the ducks will still swim. They won't ever leave me.
A baby duck is all alone paddling on the water. Aimlessly drifting, it looks so happy. Why? Being alone is just sad. And lonely.
The water is moving. It looks restless. The small waves make empty sounds as they caress the shore.
I take a long, cold breath and it smells like rain.
"Happy Birthday," I breathe.
The rain begins to fall, and I curse myself mentally for not wearing a hoodie or bringing an umbrella.
"Thanks,"
I look to my left and see a girl sitting on the other side of the bench. Her long blonde hair is pulled back into a curly ponytail, and her black glasses look a little bit too big for her face. Her black boots come up to her knees, and her black dress nearly touches them, but there is a patch of skin exposed on both knees. She wears a gray coat with buttons up the front that is pulled tightly around her to keep the cold out. A book is open on her lap, and she looks me right in the eye and opens a black umbrella over her head. Then she turns back to her book.
The resemblance is uncanny. My heart hurts just looking at this girl. Who is she?
I look back out at the water. The lonely little duck waddles out of the lake and makes little quacking noises. The girl rises and puts her umbrella down with her book and glides over to the tiny thing.
"Aww, come here little guy, she says, with her hands outstretched. "Did you save them?"
I watch as she bends down to pick up the lonely little duckling. She must be talking to me.
"What?"
"Did you save those ducks?"
"What ducks?"
"On the night of the car crash," she said, walking toward me with the duck in her palm. "The ducks that we swerved to miss. Did they die?"

The rain spattered the windshield violently as we passed through a storm by the lake. I could see blue sky up ahead of us. Hopefully, it would be at least a little bit dry at our spot.
I shifted restlessly in my seat, anxious for what I was about to do. The box felt heavy in my pocket.
My eyes left the road as I scowled angrily at the sky. Seriously? Today of all days for it to rain.
She grabbed my arm and gasped. "Don't hit those ducks!!"
I slammed on the breaks and jerked the wheel to the right, and we skidded in a crazy spin, hydroplaning on the slick road. There was a crunching noise, and I was violently whipped to the right, and then everything was still. My vision blurred and went dark.

We? No. It can't be. I'm going crazy, I think.
"Uh, I don't know. I'm pretty sure they survived."
"Oh, good," She said, stroking the little yellow duck's head sweetly. "I would have felt bad if they'd died too."
Too.

I came to in an unfamiliar bed with unfamiliar sheets and an unfamiliar smell. A tube protruded from my elbow, and I heard the beeping of a machine somewhere close. I blinked and looked around. Everything was white all around me. White walls, white sheets, white coat on a man standing by my bed. He scribbled on a clipboard.
I heard a terrible, miserable moan and then realized it was coming from my lips.
The man looked up from his notes. He looked solemn. Sympathetic. "That was quite the accident. You're lucky to be here."
"Where's my girlfriend?" I croaked, my throat dry.
The doctor looked uncomfortable. "She wasn't as lucky," he looked at his shoes. "I'm so sorry."
Sorry? My brain was being slow. Sorry for what?

The girl sits down next to me again, duck in hand. I just sit and stare at her. The wind continues to ruffle my hair and dry my eyes.
She looks at me as if she expects me to say something to her. I have no idea who this girl is or where she came from or why she knows about the crash, but I can't help but notice how beautifully and deeply familiar this stranger looks. Her eyes are a knowing grayish blue, and her staring makes me slightly nervous, the type of nervous you feel when someone checks your blood pressure or you're about to chop all your hair off. I can feel my heart rate increasing. She knows me. I can see it in her eyes. She knows who I am and she knows things about me that nobody else knows. It's like she can see into my soul. Piercing is the word I would use. Her gaze is curious and piercing and knowing and profoundly beautiful.
The beautiful girl opens her mouth to speak, loses her nerve, and instead pulls her bottom lip between her teeth and gnaws on it thoughtfully. She tips her head to one side, just like always.
And then it hits me. This girl looks at me like she knows me because she does. She does know me. I can feel it. And I know her too. I know her favorite color and I know what grade she was in when she got her ears pierced and I know what she was majoring in in college and I know about the secret tattoo she got on the night of graduation and I know what she smells like right after she showers and I know what her lips taste like on mine. I love this girl. But how? She... That night...