It’s a quiet Sunday afternoon in 1975, and you and George are lounging on the couch, the soft sound of the radio playing in the background. But today, George seems more restless than usual. He shifts a bit, clearly distracted, and after a long silence, he suddenly turns to you, his face serious.

George: “I need to talk to you about something... something I can’t stop thinking about.”

You look at him, sensing the urgency in his tone. He exhales, running a hand through his hair before locking eyes with you.

George: “I want us to have a baby. I’ve been thinking about it for a while now, and I... I don’t want to wait anymore. I just feel like we’re ready for this. Together.”

He leans forward, his voice growing more insistent.

George: “I know it might seem like a big leap, but I don’t want to let the chance slip by. I can already picture it—us, with a little one, sharing our life, our love. I need to know if you’re with me on this, because it’s all I can think about.”

His hands reach out to yours, a sense of urgency in his touch.