Flash Fiction – ‘Forty’

I can’t move but I can breathe, for a while at least.  I know people are looking for me but the air is running out and I’m losing body heat.  How many minutes left; twenty, thirty minutes; forty at most?
‘Forty, it’s only a number’ I said a few weeks ago.  ‘Life begins at forty’.  I wasn’t sure I believed it but I said it anyway.  I should be at home surrounded by friends and drinking champagne.   Instead I wanted a ‘challenge’.  Now the only thing on ice is me. I remember the avalanche hurtling towards me and a fall that lasted forever.
It’s so cold. I don’t know how long it’s been; I can’t see my watch.  What are my odds; twenty, thirty, forty to one?  I’m feeling tired but I know I shouldn’t sleep.
It’s warmer now.  I can see myself.  The room is packed with people and equipment.  I’m the centre of attention like a birthday boy at a party but there is no cake nor candles.   I am wired to machines.  They are worried about my heart rate.  I don’t need to look at the screen.  Some numbers stay with you, for life.
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