She's naked but walking sideways like a cartoon spider, red hospital lights flicking on and off as the madkid convulses, cord-swinging and yelling for the missing part to his brain.
It was hard to tell which way up he was. Someone had done some mirror magic.
On the next bed Gladys rocked and rolled, her head shaking out dull spindles of grey hair, the alopecia spreading, pushing tendrils out of her skull. One of the nurses at the station ran in and tried to strap her back down but the last time she had the strength she used it to fend off dingoes.
Still walking sideways, with Dave transfixed, she moved to the window and took out the large tube of No More Nails, applying it to her forearm and pressing it against the glass. Smiling, she squeezed a little on her thigh and pressed that against the wall, allowing it to take her weight.
Dave wanted to say words.
She lifted up her gown and applied the glue to her side, allowing the top of her ribs to nestle into the folds of the blinds before settling and then, finally, she squeezed the rest onto her face and leaned it against the glass, one eye catching the expression on Dave's ever-opening face.