ix. Months
She eats her tuna fish sandwich with the clam chowder, trying not to focus on the contents. She takes a bite. And swallows. All she does is eat anymore. Eat, eat, eat. And the occasional soap opera. She takes another bite, and eyes him across the table. He's writing a speech.
"I blame you." He smiles, and tips his head in a nod. "No, seriously."
She gets up, and feels the pains in her stomach, glaring at him. She groans with pain, and his eyes flick over to her, concerned.
"Sam. It's time to go." Finally. She grimaces. It's here.