The back of the ambulance was cold and claustrophobic, and she did not know of such things. She did not like it, and she did not like the needles that punctured her skin, and this memory (familiar, familiar) made it better, but it made her angered at the same time. It soothed her that he knew what she had gone through, that he felt pain from it, but it angered her that it had come to this when it had not needed to. She was not thinking of the love she had once felt for him, the kind of love that made the entire world seem bright. She was thinking of where she had fallen, and the fact that there was no getting up from it, not as before.