I laughed, lifted the vodka to my lips. It burned all the way down.

I died.

I’d been dying all day.

The seat in front of me pinned me down, crushing my chest. There was no blood. No head injury. I was awake until the end, delirious when I was no longer able to get enough air into my chest, but awake. Breathing got harder and harder and then everything went grey.

The jolt of the train jumping the tracks threw me into the window and my neck snapped and it was over in seconds.

I saw it coming, as though in slow motion. A van. White, ladders on the roof racks. It didn’t stop and the driver’s eyes caught mine and I knew he was going to die too but I couldn’t do anything.

The pilot said it was turbulence. It would be fine, but we should all fasten our seatbelts anyway, just in case. I stared straight ahead and I tried to count but my stomach was dropping. The cabin was getting colder and I couldn’t think. The pilot started yelling something but I couldn’t make it out. It was so cold. So so so cold.

It happened over and over again. Every time I closed my eyes, and when the sun came up I tried to move but I couldn’t. Couldn’t do anything.

It was getting worse, and I still didn’t know what it was.

I’d stayed in bed all day, only getting up to go to the toilet and smoke cigarettes out of my window, and it was getting dark and I was scared, I didn’t know of what, and I’d sent him a message, just saying hi, asking what he was doing. Nothing important.

He’d responded within minutes, and the rush of relief had almost knocked me out the window.

We met outside our usual pub, but I couldn’t go in. I tried, but my feet wouldn’t work—it was too bright, hurt my eyes. Let’s do something else, I suggested, before it got awkward. The vodka had been my idea but Tom had picked the location. He told me nobody ever came down here and I didn’t want to tell him how many hours I’d spent sitting on the bench nearby after he went home. He asked if I was all right and I told him I was. Always. But you know what they say about change and holidays.

I took another sip of vodka. ‘I think I’m just bored of it.’

‘What?’

I hesitated. ‘The city. The view.’ I shook my head. ‘I’ve been looking at it for years, you know?’

I passed the bottle back to him and wrapped myself in my hoodie. It was finally winter and being outside was probably stupid, but the air kept my eyes open.

‘I know.’ He swayed, bumped his shoulder into mine. ‘You cold?’