I suppose that’s the trouble. We haven’t been very much of anything except us, while a big part of the world was busy being lots of quite awful things.”

Something about this was so funny that he had to laugh.She laughed with him, knowing what it was that she had done that was so funny.

They sat and read the papers and talked and listened to some radio music and then sat together by the fireplace looking at the charcoal embers as the clock struck ten-thirty and eleven and eleven-thirty. They thought of all the other people in the world who had spent their evening, each in their own special way.

“There are bombers on their course both ways across the ocean tonight that’ll never see land again.”“That’s part of the reason why.”

Maybe it’s because it was never February 30, 1951

“Go to a show, listen to the radio, watch the TV, play cards, put the children to bed, get to bed themselves, like always.”“In a way that’s something to be proud of— like always.”“We’re not all bad.”

Do you know, I won’t miss anything but you and the girls. I never liked cities or autos or factories or my work or anything except you three. I won’t miss a thing except my family and perhaps the change in the weather and a glass of cool water when the weather’s hot, or the luxury of sleeping

guess not. You don’t scream about the real thing.”

“We haven’t been too bad, have we?”

“No, everyone knows, so what’s the need?” He took the paper and sat back in his chair, looking at the girls and then at her. “Are you afraid?” “No. Not even for the children. I always thought I would be frightened to death, but I’m not.”

“It’s not a matter of deserving, it’s just that things didn’t work out. I notice you didn’t even argue about this. Why not?”“I guess I have a reason,” she said.“The same reason that everyone at the office had?”She nodded. “I didn’t want to say anything. It happened last night. And the women on the block are talking about it, just among themselves.” She picked up the evening paper and held it toward him. “There’s nothing in the news about it.”

A dream I had. I dreamt that it was all going to be over and a voice said it was; not any kind of voice I can remember, but a voice anyway, and it said things would stop here on Earth. I didn’t think too much about it when I awoke the next morning, but then I went to work and the feeling was with me all day. I caught Stan Willis looking out the window in the middle of the afternoon and I said, ‘Penny for your thoughts, Stan,’ and he said, T had a dream last night,’ and before he even told me the dream, I knew what it was. I could have told him, but he told me and I listened to him.”“It was the same dream?”“Yes. I told Stan I had dreamed

and lowered his voice. “I didn’t say anything to you. It first happened about four nights ago.”

“But just the closing of a book, let’s say.”

tirring his coffee slowly and staring into its black depths