Read the following passage and questions, then choose the right answer from options, the answer should be one of A, B, C, D.

<passage>:
BREAKAWAY BY STANLEY GIMBLE Illustrated by Freas She surely got her wish ... but there was some question about getting what she wanted. Phil Conover pulled the zipper of his flight suit up the front of his long, thin body and came into the living room. His face, usually serious and quietly handsome, had an alive, excited look. And the faint lines wife. "All set, honey. How do I look in my monkey suit?" theirs completely. In her fingers she held a cigarette burned down too far. She said, "You look fine, Phil. You look just right." She managed a smile. Then she leaned forward and crushed the cigarette in the ash tray on the maple coffee table and took another from the pack. "Yes, I think so. Yes, I'm sure you did," she said, finishing the ritual but her voice broke, and she turned her head away. Phil sat She turned, facing him. There were tears starting in the corners of her wide, brown eyes, and she brushed them away with her hand. "Phil, don't go. Please don't. They can send Sammy. Sammy doesn't have a wife. Can't he go? They'd understand, Phil. Please!" She was holding his arms tightly with her hands, and the color had drained from her cheeks. "Mary, you know I can't back out now. How could I? It's been three years. You know how much I've wanted to be the first man to go. Nothing would ever be right with me again if I didn't go. Please don't make it hard." He stopped talking and held her to him and stroked the back of "I've got to get started, Mary. Will you come to the field with me?" "Yes, I'll come to say good-by." She paused and dropped her eyes. "Phil, if you go, I won't be here when you get back—if you get back. I won't be here because I won't be the wife of a space pilot for the rest of my life. It isn't the kind of life I bargained for. No matter how much I love you, I just couldn't take that, Phil. I'm sorry. I guess I'm not the noble sort of wife." She finished and took another cigarette from the pack on the coffee lighter to the end of the cigarette and drew deeply. Phil stood watching her, the excitement completely gone from his eyes. "I wish you had told me this a long time ago, Mary," Phil said. His wife of a space pilot. But I don't think I ever really believed it was possible—not until this morning when you said tonight was the take-off. It's so stupid to jeopardize everything we've got for a ridiculous "Mary, listen to me," he said. "It isn't a dream. It's real. There's nothing means anything more to me than you do—you know that. But no again. I'd be through." existed only because of the huge ship standing poised in the take-off zone five miles away in the desert. Its future as a town rested with the ready to stop existing as a town and to give itself back to the desert, if such was its destiny. Phil turned the car off the highway onto the rutted dirt road that led across the sand to the field where the ship waited. In the distance they take-off zone and swept along the top of the high wire fence stretching out of sight to right and left. At the gate they were stopped by the guard. He read Phil's pass, shined his flashlight in their faces, and "Thanks, sergeant. I'll be seeing you next week," Phil said, and smiled. "She's beautiful, Mary. You've never seen her before, have you?" "No, I've never seen her before," she said. "Hadn't you better go?" Her voice was strained and she held her hands closed tightly in her lap. "Please go now, Phil," she said. He leaned toward her and touched her cheek. Then she was in his arms, "Good-by, darling," she said. "Wish me luck, Mary?" he asked. "Yes, good luck, Phil," she said. He opened the car door and got out. The noise of men and machines scurrying around the ship broke the spell of the rocket waiting silently for flight. "Mary, I—" he began, and then turned and strode toward the Phil had worn earlier. When he came into the room, the noise and bustle stopped. They turned as one man toward him, and General Small came up to him and took his hand. "Hello, Phil. We were beginning to think you weren't coming. You all set, son?" "Yes, sir, I'm all set, I guess," Phil said. "I'd like you to meet the Secretary of Defense, Phil. He's over here by hand or touched his arm. He saw Sammy, alone, by the coffee urn. Sammy waved to him, but he didn't smile. Phil wanted to talk to him, to say something "How do you do, sir. I'm very proud to meet you," Phil said. adventure into the universe. You're lighting a new dawn of history, and those who have had it didn't realize it at the time. Good luck, and God be with you." were chairs set up for the scientists and Air Force officers directly connected with the take-off. They were seated now in a semicircle in front of a huge chart of the solar system. Phil took his seat, and the He kept thinking of Mary outside, alone by the fence. until—" Phil asked a few questions about weather and solar conditions. And then the session was done. They rose and looked at each other, the same unanswered questions on each man's face. There were forced smiles and handshakes. They were ready now. "Phil," the general said, and took him aside. "Sir?" "Phil, you're ... you feel all right, don't you, son?" "Yes, sir. I feel fine. Why?" "Phil, I've spent nearly every day with you for three years. I know you better than I know myself in many ways. And I've studied the psychologist's reports on you carefully. Maybe it's just nervousness, Phil, but I think there's something wrong. Is there?" "No, sir. There's nothing wrong," Phil said, but his voice didn't carry conviction. He reached for a cigarette. "Phil, if there is anything—anything at all—you know what it might mean. You've got to be in the best mental and physical condition of your life tonight. You know better than any man here what that means to our success. I think there is something more than just natural apprehension wrong with you. Want to tell me?" Outside, the take-off zone crawled with men and machines at the base of the rocket. For ten hours, the final check-outs had been in progress and now the men were checking again, on their own time. The thing they had worked toward for six years was ready to happen, and each one felt administration building and moved forward. The check-out crews climbed into their machines and drove back outside the take-off zone. And, alone, one man climbed the steel ladder up the side of the rocket—ninety feet into the air. At the top he waved to the men on the ground and then disappeared through a small port. Mary waved to him. "Good-by," she said to herself, but the words stuck heavens, she stood holding her face in her hands and crying softly to herself. And then she felt the touch of a hand on her arm. She turned. "Phil! Oh, Phil." She held tightly to him and repeated his name over and over. "They wouldn't let me go, Mary," he said finally. "The general would not cheeks. "Thank, God," she said. "It doesn't matter, darling. The only thing that matters is you didn't go." "You're right, Mary," he said. His voice was low—so low she could hardly hear him. "It doesn't matter. Nothing matters now." He stood with THE END

<question>:
Which of the following best serves as a metaphor for Phil and Mary's relationship, by the end of the story?

<options>:
A Mary's cigarette burned down too far
B The new, government-built town
C The barbed wire fence
D The broken zipper on Phil's space suit

<answer>:

B