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Talking about the fallen came more easily to those who hadn’t witnessed the falling.
He was getting ready to return to his wife and kids and responsibilities, and I would be left behind. What was my place in all this? And the answer was as clear to me as if he’d spoken it himself: I was the bottle of champagne, the personal celebration.
The few weeks I’d had with her were the barometer against which the rest of my life was measured.
