A delivery van ran the red light. The world tilted. Metal buckled, glass burst into a thousand bright birds, and the airbag hit me hard. I tasted copper and felt the strange, slow float of adrenaline. Then there were voices, a siren, and the gentle weight of a hand on my shoulder before the world went soft around the edges.

The hospital smelled of lemon antiseptic and old laundry. When I opened my eyes, a nurse with kind eyes named Penelope told me I had a concussion, a fractured clavicle, and bruised ribs. She said I was lucky. I did not feel lucky. I felt like a door taken off its hinges.