The rookie tugged me a little closer. “Come here.” The room quieted as I stepped closer. “I’ve got something for you,” the rookie said. Then he reached toward the tray where his breakfast still sat and he picked up a little silver ring. Made of tinfoil. I stared at it. “I made it from the applesauce top,” he said, meeting my eyes. “It might be a little sticky.” I held very still. “What’s this for?” He held it up. “I promised myself that if I lived, the very first thing I’d do was ask you to marry me.” “Guess he likes you back, Hanwell,” someone shouted. “Will you marry me?” the rookie asked,
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