She’s dead. Samantha, her wavy caramel-colored hair, her little Bambi eyes, her angel face…dead. I killed her. Sure, I didn’t crush her skull and bash her brains in. The telephone pole did that. The drugs did that. The other car’s high beams did that. But I killed her. She had just said I love you. She said she missed me. She was coming to spend the night. She was high. She asked for a ride. I was lazy. But what if there was a way to save her? What if there was a way to send back a warning? What if there was a way to undo it all? The crash. Us. Falling in love. All the way back to the beginning. What if there was a machine?