Celeste attempted to steady herself, raised her head. Her shining eyes met his, searching. She didn't move away when his fingers parted her hair. She resisted moving her head back into his hand like a cat. When was the last time anyone had...
"The world was supposed to end by now," she whispered. "A clean slate. Front lines." It was hard to parse the words. "We used cardboard cutouts of local people as target practice. We were ready."
Celeste shook her head, tears slipping down her cheeks, leaving clean trails in the grime. "I was ready. But it hasn't happened yet."