It’s just the two of us in the room right now. I know, originally, this was your spot — a way for you to get away from everyone at the base. The closer we got, the more you were willing to let me invade your personal space. Two-layer pun intended, maybe?

I scoop up another spoonful of the absolutely putrid, lukewarm beans leftover from my dinner. You’re reading by light of a lantern. It’s calm, it’s peaceful, it’s more than I get in a lifetime.

But then you reach out for my balaclava and my hand darts out, gripping your wrist to keep it in place.

“The fuck are you doing?”