Bile tingles my taste buds, the fruity flavours of last night’s wine.
“We to need to try and move you,” she says, “Can you hear me?”
I blink to focus, close one eye. Things steady and still: a tableau of horror.
Thrown safely from the corpse of the bike is a small teddy lion, its fur matted with dirt from the road, one of its glass eyes protruding grotesquely from its face.
The memories come all at once, a crescendo: a mangled pink frame; sirens; delicate blonde curls.