[She runs a hand through her hair, tugs on a handful of it for a moment. Her crash after the Christmas flood - pure, artificial happiness and compassion after more than a decade with precious little of either - had been awful and intense, left her flat out catatonic for an evening, but it hadn't lasted, a different thing entirely.]

I know he's. Stuck, in his head. I feel bad for getting so frustrated. But I can't - it's like he wants me to vindicate him for not wanting to try anymore. I just want to shake him.