"You could have at least given me a wart to work with." She told him, the humour in her voice and force in her exaggerated glare drowning somewhere between thought and delivery. The undertow of misery that had drug the comedy from her talk went to work on her attempts to work out a paralell path away from the topic.
There was no way out of this one, she knew it. She could be sad, she could get angry, she could try to forgive; patch up their relationship until it was smothered in a quilt of Sorrys and I love yous and We can make it through thises. But it would never go away. And just when she thought she could force herself to be content with that, a new realization came charging onto the landscape and lanced her through the stomach.
"My god, she saw Monty." She let go of Nathan's arm, because she needed that hand to catch her forehead as it made a break for her knees.