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“Don’t go.” “What?” “Don’t go.” “Don’t go where?” “On the expedition. Please don’t go.” “Why???” “I have a terrible feeling.” “What kind of a terrible feeling?” “The kind that’s a feeling that tells me something terrible is going to happen.” I sigh in exasperation. “Do you have any idea how much money I paid to do this?” She just looks at me. I attempt to mask my frustration. “Mary, we go through this every bloody time. Every time, you have this awful foreboding and beg me not to go, and nothing terrible has ever happened and I always come back. Why don’t we just skip to the me coming back part?” She sighs too, only hers is from weariness. “I know this is the last one. I know this is the most important one. But I really, really don’t want you to go.” She pauses.