It was Danny. In ten seconds he was not there.
“Gone! Just like that.” She swallowed hard to keep back the tears.
“Yes, just like that,” came in a quiet voice. Sally turned to find Danny’s mother standing beside her.
“Tha—that was Danny,” Sally murmured hoarsely.
“Yes, that was my boy, Danny.”
“Did—did you want him to go?” Sally asked.
“Of course, my child. He’s well prepared, Danny is. It’s the work he was trained to do. Our country is at war. We must all do our part.” The mother’s eyes were bright, but no tears gleamed there.
“It’s so much easier to dream of war than it is to see it, feel it, and be a part of it,” Sally murmured.
“Yes, dreams are often more pleasing than the realities of life,” Danny’s mother agreed.
Sally stood where she was. There was comfort to be had from communing with this big, motherly woman, comfort and peace. And just then she was greatly in need of peace, for she was being weighed in the balance. The next few moments would decide everything. And so she stood there waiting for the answer.