'It's in the past. Things are good.'

Can't we just keep this?

Sam nods a little. 'Kinda. But things are great, for you. You're so damn strong and capable in here. So organized. But isn't that my job too?'

He picks up the plate and takes it to the sink.

'Aren't I a man? You're always like, there's only monsters out there.'

'Sam? What are you saying?'

'Being here, with you, it's, it's a surprise. I'm yes...'

He puts the plate in the drying rack tenderly and turns to me.

'But Bull, I need to DO something.'

'We are. We're surviving, Sam'

Sam shakes his head and puts the dish down. Then he walks over to the  storage shelves.

'Sam?'

He picks up an old plastic bag. Something he hasn't touched in a long time.

'It's not enough. I've been reading a lot. Remember that book you gave me, about Gandhi? Remember his Salt March?'

He returns half the way.

'Bull? I feel like you're always telling me what I can and can't do.'

How do I stop this coming apart?

'I, I never meant-'

Sam blows the dust off the bag and tears it open, taking out his old clothes from the cafe.

'I wanna make salt. Like Gandhi, you know? Do something. And if you're just gonna sit there-'

Please just let this go. Please don't make me.

'-then I'm going outside. If I'm a conquest, then this is a rebellion.'

'It's not like that!' I burst out.

Sam walks up to me and uses the coffee table to put his shoes on.

'Alright, what's it like then?' he demands. 'You've had me wrapped up in cotton wool, Bull.'

I look at my hands, they're shaking. Finally, some of my secrets, forced into the open.

'You really have to know?'

'YES!'

'I dreamed about you, Sammy. Before any of this started.'

Sam stops tying his shoes. 'Uh, huh?'

'Like, a premonition. How did you think I was so prepared?' I ask him.

'I figured you were a crazy survivalist.'

This boy.

'You know me. Am I crazy?'

'Well, am I living with a liar?'

How do I answer that? Give him more truth than before. Please, God. Let it be enough.

'Sam, you were in my dreams. I was, I was saving you in them.'

Sam turns to look directly into my eyes. 'When?'

'A year before the virus hit. I started having this dream, literally the same thing, every night for months. Saving you. I thought I was crazy too.'

I get up from the sofa. The memories are too much.

'Then one morning. I saw you in town. I saw you. It was like seeing a ghost.'

Now I'm pacing. Sam sinks down into the sofa. 'So you built all this,' he gestures around the room. 'Because of me?'

I'm sick to my stomach. I don't want us to change.

'Woahhh,' he sighs, head in his hands. 'Bull!'