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Discomfort,
not raging pain,
is what brings her here, now, to this place.
She didn’t have to come; she could have waited just a bit longer
to make sure she had enough reason, conviction to satisfy her and him.
As usual, it was a quick decision.
Or was it?
In the aftermath, every decision autopsied and evaluated,
the final report inevitably inconclusive.
Was she right?
What will he say? Roll his eyes? Sigh?
Ramblings of a Medicated Lady: Words of Woe by Loria Taylor 
Your Sympathies: