she says

she says i don't understand it. i don't understand people who drink so much -
i don't understand people who don't - [he says]
___- i open something and it smells horrible and if i touch it it takes months to get through. 

so, then he says: remember how you forbid me from dying? [yes, she remembers] imagine feeling - i can't. i can't have this evening/afternoon/moment. i just can't endure it. it's too much i want to turn it off and i want it to stop and i want a repeat later. a fresh chance at it - [she nods] - so that's this. i can't be dead because your forbidding me.. it, dead forever, but i can die tonight. die and shut the whole machine off and it be quiet and thought-less and when i wake... i'll try again. the world will be anew. another chance. 
she's quiet. __ a little longer, then: that sounds horrible. 
- It is horrible. It's not fun, it's horrible. It's a death every night, that's a lot of casualties but they're little bite sized suicides. enough i can chew on without causing too big a mess. 
She responds immediately don't you go making a bigger mess than you're already making;- already made,  ... and making. .

Now he's quiet. So she adds a finishing touch: it sounds horrible though. I'm real sorry. 

* * *

and then they go on to talk about other things. with relief.
and it's sunny.
and the air is nice.
and tomorrow it's a day anew.