Japanese

You look at the woman in the bed. It's hard to reconcile her as your Sarah. A sense that hopefully once she opens her eyes, you'll see her, even if it's deep within.

It feels expensive, and so alone. The bed isn't in a ward, but alone in the room. The spartan room is pristine white, with barely more than your chair in it. You're in the research wing, far away from the rest of the regular patients, and the gawkers that'll swarm if the operation is pulled off.

Her chest moved beneath the blankets, as she slept. The differences felt stark to you, you shudder to think how they'll feel to Sarah. In many ways she was almost clichéd with long straight dark hair, and elegant features. But Sarah would wake to find herself several inches shorter. A petite and slender woman, and almost twenty years younger too.

Doctor Saunders had told you a little of the donor's history. No revealing details to guide you to her identity. But you were aware of her Japanese history, and that she was alone in the country. You recall the sad shake of the Doctor's head, as he explained the rift that drove them apart. She had shamed her family, by having cosmetic surgery, as if ashamed of her parents and her heritage.

With the rift, you knew 'her ashes' were being sent back to Japan. However, it was her one feature that was decidedly non-Japanese.

Watching her chest rise and fall beneath the sheets, you know she must have hated her parents, as she was stacked! Your Sarah was never over-blessed with curves, a fact she'd gripe about, then deny. Smirking to yourself, you wonder if that'll be her first observation.

Shaking your head, you dismiss the crude judgement, reminding yourself that Sarah lies behind those eyes. You see movement behind the closed eyelids... She's slipped from ****, and anesthetised into sleeping... and if you're right, dreaming.