“I think I’m gonna puke,” I realize as he cuts the engine. Clammy sweat pricks my forehead and the roiling in my stomach turns violent. “Okay,” he says calmly, and it immediately reminds me of how different it is than Beth’s response. She would be the chaotic mix of panic while trying to stay calm for me when really she’s freaking out because she hates vomit and would be doing a poor job of hiding it.
