•48 hours•//phan

Hour 43

We've been talking since the ceremony, about what our child would be like, about how we would grow old and die together.

And if, as almost on cue, a little kid comes waking toward us, crying.

Judging by the way they walk, they're about four, so they probably know how to talk.

Before I can stop him, Dan's rushing up to the kid, arms out.

"Oh, honey, where's your parents?" Dan asks, wrapping the kid in a tight hug.

I come up behind Dan and put my hand on his back, who looks about ready to burst into tears.

"M-my mommy, she left and dropped me off over there," the little kid says, pointing back the way he'd come from.

Dan then did start crying, so I held onto him, as well as the kid.

"What's your name?" I ask, rubbing the kid's back, feeling them shudder beneath it.

"I-it's Chase," they say, and then add on, "What's your's."

"Phil," I answer, but then say, "That's Dan, my, my husband," for Dan, who's obviously in no state to answer.

Dan looks at me after the word 'husband' leaves my mouth, and offers up a weak smile.

"Yeah, my husband."