I thought we were just unlucky.

I thought Mira’s death was just some sick twist in our fate.

But my father and I weren’t the only ones who lost someone.

When I went back to work, there were numerous other letters with the logo of the military and dog tags.

I eventually lost track of how many there was.

Counting felt wrong.

They weren’t just a bunch of numbers like their dog tags said they were; they were people.

I found out who else died on Earth throughout the week.

I’d see their family members in tears or with solemn faces and I knew.

I could hear a lot of people say ‘sorry’ but sorry doesn’t bring a person back to life or alleviate the pain.

Dinner was quieter now, only the sound of forks scraping our plates filling the silence.

If dad started to cry I’d hug him.

If I knew my own water works were threatening to spill, I held onto him.

It was just my father and I now, we were the only ones in our small family left.

We lost enough and we didn’t need to lose anyone else.

I don’t think we could handle another death.
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