Fog

I remember the fog as a kid, driving in fog so thick, that we had to pull over and wait for it to clear.

I remember the fog on a school trip, walking in fog so thick, that we had to stop and turn back.

I remember the fog whilst on a recce, lying in fog so thick, not hearing the bullet that left the hole in my collar.

I remember the fog round the ambulance, and being warned of thicker fog lying ahead.

I remember the fog as we crawled through it, finally seeing the lights of those who'd arrived before us.

I remember the fog as we pulled up on scene, and were told there were four confirmed dead.

I remember the fog as we stepped out into it, seeing the dazed driver of the bus as he sat with his head in his hands.

I remember the fog as we treated his passengers, how he swore that next time he'd slow down.

He'll remember the fog and his speed.

He'll remember the fog and his passengers.

He'll remember the fog and the crash.

He'll remember the fog.