Went down to Santa Fe, where Renoir paints the walls

How she had dragged herself this far in her state was anyone’s guess. The nausea had hit her hard and fast, and once pleasant smells left her wretching. Her stomach hurt from heaving, she had a headache she couldn’t shake and she couldn’t stop peeing. If anyone had thought to warn her this was the way pregnancy would be, she would have dosed herself with enough birth control to never run the risk of potentially falling pregnant at all.

That wasn’t even touching on the mood swings. Otis had hissed at her earlier in the day, and instead of just scowling back she could feel the tears prickling at the backs of her eyes. Her companion was likewise floored, his soft concerned sound afterwards pushing her over the edge into a full blown bawling mess. That was why she was out here in the first place, “Me firstborn fer some fuckin’ mint!” She lamented to herself, turning her face into the wind that blew over the cliff edge, carrying the fresh scent of salt and distant rain… and…

It didn’t matter what the smell was, her stomach was having none of it and she indelicately threw her head down with jaws parted to vomit grass laced bile over the very romantic cliff edge. A very bitter part of her hoped it might hit someone.

“Speech”