It hits when I’m crossing the next bridge. At first I think there’s an earthquake. But it’s not; it’s the anger, the black wolf. I stumble to the rail and grab it as the rage ignites inside. People cycle by, no one stops. I get my vape out, press the button. It’s taking too long, and I feel myself start to slide. My fingers fumble and the vape falls into the water below. Splash. A tram rumbles. The bell clangs once. Reality fragments into static scenes. Time loops. Traffic. Horns blaring. I stumble into someone. Heywatchout. Clouds. Spires. Circling birds. Voices coming in and out of focus. Hands in front of me. My hands? Opening a gate. Rain rain rain. Back of my neck. Coin on the ground. Black wolf’s eye. More horns speeding past and dropping in pitch and another one and another one and a … Wait here for a while, maybe it’ll pass. Walking now, feet distant; they look miles away. Better not look down. Time speeds up, blur of people, too fast. Black. Faces. Faces. Faces. Station Chief Smit, gun wound. Faces faces faces. Shoe in my hand. Throw. One. Two. Screams. A woman’s face. Fear on it. Move. Move now. Wet grass against my soles. Eyes. Eyes everywhere. Mouths muttering. Soft whispers building to a deafening roar. Hands clamped on ears. Heart thudding. A man taking something out of a bin. The eyes are looking at me. Sodden cigarette butts clustered round a lamp post. There’s something I … On the move again. Where am I? Where are we? What are we? Our head’s turning, a million freeze-frames one after the other. Metallic taste. Wet grass on my cheek. Something crawling in my ear. There’s something … Time stoooooooooooooooooooooooooooops.

What – do I …

The call had not gone well. Which was hardly a surprise. He’s driving home from the office, having told his PA he had a last-minute doctor’s appointment. Only the doctor is waiting for him at home, inside a bottle with a fancy label. The traffic lights up ahead turn red and he slows to a standstill. Another car pulls up alongside him and he feels jumpy all of a sudden. He glances over and sees a couple of young men, mid-twenties most likely. They have the windows down, music blaring, the driver smoking a cigarette, the passenger upending a bottle of something. They’re pumped up and he suddenly zooms back in time to twenty years earlier when it could have been him in the car. He finds himself wondering what happened. How did he end up where he is now? What would his younger self do if he’d known the route he was travelling down would land him here? The light changes and the car roars away, but he just sits there, unable to move, unable to press the accelerator until the next light cycle comes round.