Married.

Back up. That universe's Sam, dead of one of the most preventable, routine organ failures known to man. She remembers visiting him in the hospital, leaving that stupid magazine under his pillow just for the fun of it. One of the few times they saw each other in person since they split. She'd heard and been worried, swung by just to see that he was okay. Even now it's hard to imagine him dying of something so... mundane.

"...sounds kinda like Gerry's world," comes out easier than anything else, the words to talk about that strange tangle of emotions taking time to unknot themselves into sentences. "But worse. Like something happened."

End of the world. Yeah, sounds about right.

She tries to find words for another five, ten seconds before all what comes out is an emphatic: "FFFFFuck." She can't keep her eyes on him, they end up on the sky as she throws her head back and drags her hands down her face. "Married. What the fuck. We'd barely even..."

Even brushed up against the topic. Wasn't like she hadn't thought about it. Wasn't like she hadn't wanted it. Back then it really felt like Sam was her future. Until he wasn't.

"And— drugging herself to..." Exhale. "I-I don't even know what to do with that, Sam."