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"  He was never the same after the accident. Retroactive amnesia prevented him from remembering the moment of impact with the runaway SUV. Only a few fragments of the event stayed lodged in his mind. One thing that haunted him later was the image of his wife&amp;#039;s corpse slung through a splintered windshield covered in blood.   The problem was that Sarah had survived the crash. Apart from bad dreams, bruises, and a coating of dust from the airbag, she was just fine. But his memory of her death was so strong and white-hot, like a flash bulb burst, that nothing could convince him it was false--not even her actual physical presence in his house.  Following a cold logic with absolute rigor, starting from the bedrock of indisputable facts he had seen with his own eyes, he had no other choice but to conclude that this woman now living with him after the crash, though like his Sarah in every way, was not his wife. This had to be an imposter, a double, maybe an actor or even a clone or robot  What terrible purpose she had, this other woman--what possible advantage she hoped to gain, was beyond him. He was neither wealthy nor prominent. He was not even attractive. All he knew was that this could not be his wife, because she was dead.   He called his wife&amp;#039;s replacement &amp;quot;Sarah II.&amp;quot; When she tried to deceive him with kisses, he tried hard not to recoil in horror, for fear of tipping her off to the fact that he knew who or what she really was.   Finally, he couldn&amp;#039;t stand it anymore. &amp;quot;I&amp;#039;m divorcing you,&amp;quot; he said, and she cried her mechanical tears. "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
<http://www.esquire.com/entertainment/books/a2281/esq0207sarah/>