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❁ུ۪۪
"We still have time," Heinrich exclaimed, tripping over his words like they were shoelaces that had come undone. "There aren't any certainties, not yet."
But there were. A death like this, an assassination, would cause an outrage. Franz Ferdinand was the heir to the throne, and he had been shot. "We don't know that," Marjorie stammered, "because we're not even over there. Germany is right next to Austria-Hungary, and surely it'll get roped into this too."
Little did she know, it would not just be a few countries. In just a few years, every continent would be tethered to the bloodshed by a thin shred of dignity. There was no easy way to smooth out a bump this large. "Let's just wait it out, see if they figure out how to fix this."
"It was a Serbian terrorist. No one will care if Serbia's government sent them or not, people will want revenge." Her head was teeming with tumultuous concerns, and they managed to slink into Heinrich's, too.
"We'll take it day by day, and if you're right then... then we'll figure it out." He knew that it was all too likely she was indeed correct. Hope, no matter how frail or wavering, is something that we often like to clutch timorously, believing that it'd change things. It provides the implausible idea that conditions will improve—though the only difference is in mental stability. Those apocryphal stories can be a source of relief or a cause of insanity.
Marjorie nodded skeptically. "Sure, yeah. I don't want to lose you is all."
"And you won't, I've told you this," he emphasized, smiling slightly. "Even if I have to go, you won't. Just because I might be in Germany and you here doesn't mean you've lost me."
But his words were of no reassurance to her. Instead, her pupils had dilated to daggers of reality. "That's not what I mean. It's a war, for God's sake." She let her voice drop, the fear much too audible for either of their likings. "You know what could happen. You know that you could die."
As the words rolled off of her tongue, Heinrich winced. He knew that she was right, and yet hearing her say it and knowing that she was thinking about it was agonizing. "Don't jump so far ahead," he finally sputtered, but the recourse seemed absurd when death was so dire. "I'm here now, and I'll be here until we hear otherwise."
"I suppose you could be right. Maybe humanity isn't so violent. Maybe the quarreling nations can solve this." False hope. The optimism sprouted from good intentions, sanguine ones, but would only prolong the pain.
In fairness, of course, they didn't know that there'd be a war as we do.
"Exactly," he said, "think like that. Not everything has such drastic consequences. And if it does, then you can say you told me so."
Not beguiled, Marjorie swatted at his wrist, her eyes doing somersaults in their sockets. "It isn't funny!"
