I sat in the back of a car that belonged to a perky old man. The car danced along the bumpy road to its own song. “I am the greatest. I am the strongest. You will never see me cry,” the car hummed. All of a sudden, the car stopped, and my head banged on the seat in front of me. I wondered why the driver stopped. I looked around. No traffic lights, no police...What was going on?

    Then, I noticed a sleek and shiny car that had crashed into a wall. I got out of the car with a worried expression on my face. Was anyone hurt? Is there anyone in the wrecked car? My questions were soon answered with a doleful, devastated and morose tone. I saw a man whose head was split open lying in front of me. His arms were hairy and his legs had scars, a lot of them. I could tell he was a young man, no wrinkles, no white hair, a handsome man with a big heart! How could I tell? His wife was sitting beside him bedecked with jewels. No, she wasn’t dead, but she was quickly whisked away to the hospital before I could examine her further. I touched the car. It had a smooth surface with tiny bumps here and there. I glanced at the man, looking for things I missed before. Then, I saw it! His eyes were gleaming.

    I swam deep into his eyes. At last, I found a teardrop carrying a tiny thing inside it, a photograph of him and his wife smiling broadly when they first met.

    I pushed the tear down and held back my own. “Ahem!” came a voice from behind me. I thought it would be my kindly driver, but when I turned around, I was greeted by an angry policeman who was screaming at me. “You cannot be here! Get behind that line, young lady!” he yelled. I stole one last touch of the smashed car as I made my way toward the police tape. But this time, instead of feeling devastation, I felt happiness. I felt happy for the man. He would be in heaven, a place where there is no depression, where everyone can love.