Dan, please.

You’ve been pleading with him for a month now. Ever since Dan announced he would be enlisting in the war, you have been struck with this paralyzing fear. You continue to beg him not to go, not to abandon you, to put himself in danger. But his biological clock is ticking. His descendants all died in a war, one per generation. Why does he have to?

“Baby, please,” Dan argues back in the same tone. He presses the heels of his palms into your shoulders to hold you at a distance. He’s shirtless, a cigarette between his lips. Always so casual. Always so far from you at any given moment — so far from the world. You try to speak again, but he cuts you off.

“Stop. Please. Look, I don’t wanna fight with you again, okay? Let’s just enjoy the month, honey, while we still got time.”

While we still got time… Why would he play that card now?