There were two strange things about being flung out of a window, thought Nick. The first was that he had time to contemplate what was happening when his synapses should have been thoroughly inundated with the expletives of thought. Also, and in the moment, this almost felt like a fixation: it was cold out. His body had the audacity to complain to him that it was cold.
He should not have been able to fix his mind on those two points. Not when he’d been flung out of a fortieth-floor window.