Sigh...

She stood on the cliff's edge, the breeze blowing through her shiny tresses, the taste of sea salt dancing on her pink scruffy tongue, the single warm tear trolling down her cheek and she thought, "Roderigo, Roderigo, why didn't you tell me about the other women, the other men, the half-full bottle of laundry detergent; why, if I were to step off this precipice right now, would you care, would you cry at my funeral, or would you shack up with Lisbeth, Flora, Humberto and Downy All Temperature Delicates and forget you'd ever heard the name Carlotta?"