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“Don’t talk to me” I yell at him as he walks into the bedroom and turns and walks straight back out with a frown and a sigh, doing his best not to fight with me again. We have been fighting all day about everything and nothing and I am being my crazy, irrational self-right now, who doesn’t want to converse or touch in any way. Good old Sophie is reverting inside her head to deal with this shit and Arry is on the verge of some sort of silent mental break down.

Feeling enraged, crazy upset that this is ruining everything for us. My head’s a chaos of mess and conflicting thoughts and fear.

A baby, a real live little human being inside of me, that we put there, and it screws everything up. I can’t go home unless by land and sea and Arry would never be okay with that long-haul journey. He wants me to stay put until I can fly again, stay put when he goes back to our city to finish the last weeks of his ties to his family business and leave