There was a small curve of a forehead, the suggestion of a nose, and a hand beside her face.

I knew it was only a still image.

To me it felt like the first page of a book I was barely worthy to read.

For six years Hannah and I had discussed children in cautious ways.

I always said later, after the business settled, after this one contract, after the next problem was resolved.

There was always a next problem.

She used to tell me, “You can’t postpone living until every danger disappears.”