A sense of calm surrounds me. I’m dying. The EMTs are shouting at each other over the siren. I hear their assessments—blood loss, pressure dropping, breathing shallow.
“Look at me,” the younger man orders. I do as he says, if only to keep him calm.
Suddenly you are right beside me. You squeeze in beside the older EMT and take my hand. “You’re going to be fine,” you say. “Trust me. We’ll be together forever.”
Trust you? I think about our last moments together. You reaching over to unbuckle my seatbelt as you drive us into the concrete bridge embankment.