A siren wails and a red light flashes. As the rattle of stretcher wheels nears, I remember my sister, also lying amid twisted metal and Christmas gifts. I call her name, my mouth filled with snow and copper.
Someone snaps an oxygen mask on my face and loads me into the ambulance. I glimpse my rescuer, sauntering towards my twin, red cape billowing.
Santa turns and nods at me. “Not today. Not for you.”
He vanishes with her.