Deep breath in, everything is in slow motion. Scenes rush past as I reach out and try to grasp the fleeting one that will carry me past the pain. Breath out. One second down, five more to go. I can see my life from every angle, see things I never thought to look at from a different side, and cringe at how I see it now. Breath in. Something's coming I know it inside, I can feel the anticipation as I see more of my life flash by. Breath out. I was so happy there at my sweet sixteen, fresh faced, ready to take on the world. Four. Breath in. What is going on, am I letting go or holding on. Breath out. The pain increasing as the images flood faster. Three. Breath in. I see the day we met, rain pouring as I struggle with bags of groceries. You picked up my oranges and my tampon, no shame. I was impressed with that. Breath out. Your fortieth birthday, the first heart attack. You rebounded so well you surprised every doctor in the building. Two. Breath in. What am I doing racing down memory lane, wasting time when I could be shouting at the universe, or railing against God. Breath out. Fresh out of surgery from a mastectomy, you bought me a gorgeous nightie and told me how sexy I'd always be to you. One. No breath left to give. Something is gone. I'm empty, hollow. Six seconds to process it all. How can life pass so fast that it only takes six seconds to relive it all.