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More than alone. I’m left with a sinking realization. It fills me, slides inside me.
Our lives do not belong to us.
And I am stealing this man, greedily snatching moments for myself. He’s needed in so many ways, meaningful ways, and I’m—
I’m risking the world for the taste of his kiss.
* * *
Brennan stays lockedin the Situation Room for the next thirteen hours.
Russian President Kirilov gives a speech claiming the insurgents in Ukraine are Western military forces in disguise. He rages about Western arms going to Ukrainian fighters, tells the whole world America and the West have already started World War III. Russia will no longer permit any aid shipments to enter the country, he says, claiming weapons are being smuggled amid the food and medical relief.
Russian artillery destroys a convoy of medical supplies headed for a maternal and pediatric field hospital. He deploys military units to villages and towns, starts rounding up civilians and moving them to resettlement zones. Controlled areas, he says.
Reports of disappearances, of people falling off the edge of the planet, of hastily dug graves and smoke rising in the distance, skyrocket.
I feel Brennan’s heart breaking as if it’s my own.
