A long breath, and then said with the same lightness he'd heard that morning, when she'd dismissed their conversation about perfection, "Like something was trying to drag me down, slowly by inches, but inexorable." A sigh, like it had been all so very tedious, "And it was choking me, so I couldn't breathe. Or speak. Lying there--" On his lap "--unable to even whisper for help, even if I'd wanted to."

Which she had. Desperately. She just wasn't going to say that. For reasons.