I wrote this in my last revision and boy, I really like it.
As I sat in that little room watching her, listening to her, I felt an overwhelming urge to yell at her, to shake some sense into her, to hurt her for having put me through the last two years for her own uncertainty. The anger subsided and instead I sat and listened to her talk on about the problems that her mother’s decision had created in her life. At the time she left I knew she was suffering, but now, listening to her talk about her feelings over the last two years, I realized that the emotional storm that I saw when we first broke up had not been a tsunami that washed gently away. Madison’s anger had been like a Seattle rain, slow, ever-present, rarely gone for long. Eventually she did cry, but just a single tear, and that she wiped away quickly before she stiffened again; typical Madison.