Whispers...

He groaned and pulled himself out of bed. After sitting on the edge with his feet dangling for a few minutes, he decided that it was time to get up. Facing another day was a dreary prospect, but it had to be done. While dejectedly pouring cereal and milk into a bowl, he pulled out his notepad, and began writing. Every morning, he tried to remember as much as he could about the previous day's events, and record them. After that was done, he shrugged on an old jacket, and grabbed the keys. As he drove down the road to work, he tried not to think about anything in particular, and let his thoughts wander. He had learned this calming technique during this training. But, for some reason, he couldn't divert his thoughts from the dream he had the night before...
A Bicycle, a busy intersection, the sound of (could it have been his own voice?) sobbing, flashing lights, moaning sirens, jumbled voices, and... a face. It was the most beautiful face in the world, but her features were not clear; everything was blurred, he could not capture a proper image it.
He pulled into the parking lot and cried his heart out.