"Nelson!"
"Mrs Niobe, please try not to move. Nelson's...ok"
"Terence?"
"I'm sorry”.
The desperate, futile, faint-inducing attempt to reverse time, to make the words unsaid, the truth unhappened. You're breathing in air but it feels like water. Caught between the panic, and the urge to just give in and let it take you. But something pulls you back.
“Nelson!”
