silence thickens between them. long, overwhelming. she can’t stop the way her lips part, the way they tip down at the corners. what is she meant to say to that? how is she meant to answer? sally doesn’t know, doesn’t understand. all the things he’s been through, she’s never going to understand them. she can’t pretend. she can’t act like she knows what it is like to put her life on the line, to have to kill people and get through the day because it was expected of you to be fine after something so horrific. he’d fought, and he’d come home. that was what they all said was the best part, right? she doesn’t ask, though. doesn’t dare say a word. “talk to me,” she’s opened up to him about her marriage. more than once. too many times, maybe. he’s not reciprocated. she’d asked before and he’d said no. “barry-- please, just talk to me.”