No….”
“Don’t you feel it, Harold? Feel it, too?” John whispered, blinking. “There will be another time. There always will be until we’re finished. And after that, it’s up to God or whatever it is that’s set these things in motion. But you’ve got to trust. You’ve always been the strong one!”
Harold sobbed ugly, wretched; tears and snot flowing against John’s warm chest. “But you’ll try, John. Won’t you?”
Grimly, John nodded. “You know I always do.”