100 contest ENTRY

"Clear!"
Voices, lights, crying, pressure from someone grasping my hand. Each instance those fingers slip out of mine, that word is screamed. It rhymes with fear, exactly what I feel.
Counting distracts pain. Two, three…
Remember, anything? Some glimpses come forward. Huge orange truck, crossing bold yellow line, skin covered in red, followed by blackness.
Four, five…
Time frames glide across, parents smiling, first love; joyful births…Slides showcasing past images pass.
Seventy six...
Hugging daughters, tiresome work days, tearful funerals.
Ninety eight…
Connecting palms slip away. Without warning, an overbearing flash introduces the most amazing sunset possibly imaginable.
One hundred.