"Look, you don't have to admit who you are or even tell me your name, .but if you are the mystery woman in his diary, please help him! God knows everyone else, all his doctors, have tried ...and failed."

The woman then handed Kim a small, spiral bound notepad, the kind that no one uses for what they're really intended for. As Kim flipped open the worn and tattered notebook, she saw the familiar block lettering which made .a chill run up her spine. The first line hit her like a jackhammer:

 

"MY FIRST AND ONLY TRUE LOVE"

 

"I assure you, .I'm not the person in this notebook" Kim said , trying as hard as she could to maintain her composure.

"Please, call me Janet", the woman interrupted. "I'm Jack's wife."

Kim already knew very well who she was. The internet was great for poking into all those private nooks and crannies, tracking down who was married, who was single. Jack was married. In fact, she knew precisely how long he'd been married- ten years, three months and two weeks. Although her relationship with him had happened years ago and was sexually brief, it was absolutely necessary to keep their history a secret from Janet, who was now standing practically shoulder to shoulder with her in this awful, impersonal medical environment. The whole thing could get awkward and volatile at any moment if she wasn't careful. Kim was determined not to tell Jack's wife anything about her past relationship with him. Being a woman, she knew that the slightest hint of information could send a jealous or insecure wife over the edge. She didn't need that drama at this moment. What was in the past would stay in the past.

And just how did she find out about Jack's tragic condition? Easy enough. It was during one of her weekly 'keep tabs on Jack Taylor cuz I still have a semi-crush on the hottie' searches on Facebook. Searching for updates on his life, where he lived, his career, and just about anything else under the sun related to him had become an uncontrollable addiction. She couldn't stay away. Her routine was so regular, you could almost set your watch by it. Every Friday night after getting home from her job as a teacher, she'd log onto the familiar website and type in "Jack Taylor" for the umpteenth time.

Although she was the one who had broken up with him for being a ridiculously sex obsessed horndog in college, accusing him of wanting 'it' in all shapes and forms, almost 24 hours a day, she still missed him tremendously over the years. And now her snoopy little online searches had revealed his sad situation - he'd suffered a severe injury, a blow to the head in a freak car accident which plunged her oversexed ex-lover into a coma that had already lasted more than thirty days. A solid month of non-response, even with the best medical care. People simply didn't recover from injuries like that...