This is the first part of my story The Paths Will Meet.
If I reach 3 likes I’ll show you the rest… eventually.

Six months ago, everything went wrong.

The birds were singing, the wind was blowing in the trees. Me and my mother were having a nice stroll in the park.

That’s when it happened.

I don’t even know why they did it, I don’t know why they took her, I don’t know why they left me behind, I don’t know why they covered the world in a thick layer of sand.

Aliens are weird.

That wasn’t the worst part. Alien monsters (we call them Bonesmashers) were set loose. Humans are no longer the apex predator. We need to be careful and try to not get eaten. And…

All of us are younger than 18 years old. Is that a coincidence? Or did the aliens just feel like taking all the grown-ups and leaving?

I don’t know. None of us know.

I feel a hand-patched blanket covering me. It’s a little rough around the edges but it’s a lot better than the first few days of this apocalypse, the first few days before I came to this place.

I make my way out of my makeshift bed and shuffle towards breakfast. The walls are made of roughly cut stone and the floor is slightly creaky, as it’s made from wood. The layout of this place is quite convenient. The whole thing is underground and the entrance/exit is a flight of stairs upward. From the entrance, you can see the whole room. In the far corner from the entrance, there’s a counter. Surrounding the whole room are tables, chairs and other things we found such as bookshelves, carpets, boxes, etc. Below this room, there’s a wine cellar containing not only wine, but also canned foods.

“TOM!!!” Yells a girl with ponytails behind the counter. “Come on, everyone’s waiting!”

That’s my friend Zoe. She runs the bar. The bar is like a safe haven for us kids wandering the world that used to be home. The bar, it’s also much more than that, you will see.

As I walk to the counter I hear someone whisper, “I’m so glad the bar is underground, the Bonesmashers can’t get us here.” To be completely honest, I don’t think being underground stops the Bonesmashers, but at least someone is optimistic. I sit down at a table near the counter. My friends Clara and Sam are also sitting at that table. I wince. Sam’s haircut would make the toughest man cry. Why does he insist upon cutting it himself? 

“Hello Tom!” Clara exclaims.

“Good to see ya!” Adds Sam.

Zoe often sends us out on missions, so as I eat my small share of bread I ask Zoe, “So, what’s the job?”

“I want you to find me a working lightbulb.”

Say what now?

“But that’s impossible in an apocalypse like this!” Blurts Sam. “Also, why don’t you ever go out to Scavenge?”

Scavenging is what we call going out into the sandy nothingness and looking for useful items. It’s hard work, but necessary. That’s where our food, water and entertainment comes from. Very important, very necessary.

“I’m a Salvager, not a Scavenger,” Zoe counters. “Plus have you ever seen anyone Scavenge in slippers?” Zoe lifts her leg above the counter and shows Sam her slightly worn out slippers.

We call Zoe a Salvager. We have no idea what it means as dictionaries are hard to find in an apocalypse, but we think it suits her.

“Oh, hi Oldest.” Zoe greets a teenage girl. We call her oldest because she is by far the oldest of us.

“What’s the next mission?” Oldest asks.

“A lightbulb,” answers Zoe. “One of the overhead lights broke. We have to fix it before nightfall or the Bonesmashers might get in.”

For some reason Bonesmashers appear to hate light.

“We also need more water, food, fabric, the usual. But we really really need a light bulb.”

Clara jumps up from her seat. “Come on, Tom, Sam! Let’s go Scavenge!”

As we leave we take some shovels that were propped up against the wall. I go up the stairs and exit the bar with my friends. You see, before the attack, I had this strange habit of memorizing exactly where everything was so well I could find my way blindfolded. What with all the sand covering everything, my skill comes in very handy. That is why I always lead the group. I lead us all to a largish mound of sand. I point at it. “That’s the electronics shop. Let’s get this sand off it.”

Digging sideways is actually easier than it seems. Gravity is on your side so the sand falls away quite easily.

After about 5 minutes of sideways digging we uncover the top half of an automatic door. Clara smashes the glass with her shovel. We are very familiar with the fact that automatic doors no longer work at this point.

Clara elegantly jumps through the hole. I admire her skills, considering her black hair reaches her knees. How does she not step on it? 

I jump down through the hole. Not as elegant as Clara, but I don’t get hurt by the fall.

Sam tries to do a backflip, fails, falls and faceplants on the floor. God that kid is so unbelievably unskilled. Clara rolls her eyes and I slap my forehead.

 After helping Sam up, Clara shushes us. “Do you hear that noise? It sounds like crying.”

Sam laughs nervously. “I don’t hear crying but let’s do this and get out of here.” He sees a cobweb. “This place gives me the creeps..”

“We can’t just ignore it, Sam!” I exclaim. “Remember Zoe’s rule: show all kids in need the way to the bar so they can restore their health.” We glare at each other angrily.

“Uhh guys?” Clara peers over a shelf. “I found us a lightbulb, and the source of the crying…”

I follow her gaze and see a small baby crying for his mother. I instantly feel an urge to take care of this precious child no matter what.

“How did this baby survive?” Clara whispers. I shrug. Babies are tougher than they look, miracles happen.

“Hello, little guy,” says Clara gently. “We can take you somewhere safe, would you like that?”

Before Clara can pick the little child up, Sam butts in. “NO! If we bring this baby back, we’ll have less food each because we’ll have to share with one more person! Rule or no rule, we are not bringing this baby to the bar!”

“WE’RE BRINGING HIM BACK, SAM!” Clara and I respond. Jinx.

We set out to leave the electronics shop. Sam nearly hurts himself on the broken glass. Luckily, he doesn’t. Wait, it’s night already? Oh no, there might be Bonesmashers now.

“Aw, weak! It’s nightfall already?” Sam complains.

Clara is carrying the baby. For some reason it seems to enjoy chewing her arm. Clara looks into the distance. “We should hurry. I don’t see any Bonesmashers at the moment, but you never know…” Clara breaks off as she sees movement in the distance. “BONESMASHER! RUN!” She yells whilst sprinting away. A spider-like Bonesmasher emerges from the sand. I quickly follow Clara’s example and run away as fast as possible. Sam stays where he is. “That’s the smallest Bonesmasher I’ve ever seen!” He chuckles. He’s about to say something else, but the Bonesmasher hisses and clicks. It begins to grow and get bigger, faster and spiderier. It runs at us.

“OH MY GOSH!” Yells Sam, running away. “A SPIDER BONESMASHER! I HATE SPIDERS! AND I HATE BONESMASHERS!”

I’m almost unable to run any more when Clara announces, “There! That’s the bar!” Oh good, it’s only ten meters away. Brilliant, just one more push and we’ll be safe.

“AHHHHHHHHHHHH IT’S GOT ME!” Screams Sam. Oh no, the Bonesmasher caught him! I want to help, I need to help, but if I try it’ll catch me too. What should- what can I do?

Flash! A bright flash of light? Flash! Again? Oh, wait, it’s scaring the Bonesmasher away? I run to check if Sam is alive. He IS! Phew.

“Whaaaat just happened?” Sam groggily asks me.

“Was not me,” Clara adds.

My eyes readjust to the darkness and I see ZOE wielding a flashlight! “ZOE?”

“Yes, it’s me, hurry into the bar—there might be more!”

We follow Zoe down the steps into the bar.

Zoe takes the lightbulb off Clara. “I’m so glad you got this! I’ll use this to fix the light as soon as poss…” Zoe looks at our hands. Uh oh, we accidentally left our shovels behind!

“YOU PIGHEADED IDIOTS! YOU!”

Help me! Mercy!

“…what is going on here? Calm down, Zoe.” Oldest! You are my angel from heaven to save me!

Clara decides to change the topic. “We found a baby. He needs a home.” 

“Get that monstrosity potty trained soon,” Zoe fumes. “We are in very short supply of diapers.”

“Please, Zoe, calm down a little!” Oldest pleads. She picks up the baby. “Who’s a good little baby boy then?”

That child is in good hands. Oldest makes everyone feel safe and at home. Zoe does not. But Zoe is still very vital, she organizes this whole place. She rations our food, fixes our clothes and generally fixes things.

“I’m off to fix the light.” Zoe storms off. I really hope Zoe stops fuming.

“Come get your blankets!” Oldest calls.

Ooh, one of Zoe’s best ideas: the cozy things box. Basically a box with a whole load of blankets stuffed in it. I lie down in the designated sleeping area and grimace. See, now that it gets very cold at night so I shall introduce Zoe’s worst idea: sleeping close together to save body heat.

I woke up the next morning because someone’s foot was in my mouth. Not a pleasant experience. Everyone has dirty feet.

I head toward the counter. I see Zoe and Clara chatting. Oh, I can just about make out a hole in Clara’s sleeve. Did the baby do that yesterday?

“The baby did this to your sleeve?” Zoe mutters. Oh, I expect Zoe will sew a new patch for Clara. I look around at everyone’s patched clothes. Zoe really takes care of us. Scavenging murders clothes.

“Follow me,” instructs Zoe. “I’ll fix that gaping hole in no time!”

Wait, if Zoe is fixing Clara’s sleeve then she can’t be serving breakfast! I hope we do have breakfast today.

“Oh, and Tom, today’s mission is to find Rex a new pair of shoes.”

Wait, I don’t get breakfast but I do get a mission? What?

“It’s ot-nay Rex!” Rex butts in. “Y-may ame-nay is Ex-ray!” Translation: It’s not Rex, my name is Ex-ray. For some unbeknownst reason, Rex only speaks in pig Latin. I think that’s a bit weird.

“I eed-nay ize-shay one undred-hay oes-shay!” Rex continues. Translation: I need size one hundred shoes. Like I said, Rex is weird.

“Hi, Tom,” greets Sam. “I’m getting Starling to draw and record that Bonesmasher we saw yesterday.” 

Starling is deaf. She lost her hearing aids in the desert. Her job, since she is slightly disabled, is to record all Bonesmashers that we encounter. That way, we know how best to survive. Of course, when I first arrived I had no idea Starling was deaf. I asked how she was doing, and she didn’t respond. I thought she was ignoring me, but then Zoe told me she was deaf. I felt like a fool.

I look at Starling’s record. Her drawing is perfect! “Wow, Starling, this is brilliant!” She captured every single detail of the Bonesmasher and our encounter! I’m admiring Starling’s work when Rex approaches me.

“O-day ou-yay ow-knay e-thay ay-way o-tay e-thay oe-shay op-shay?” Translation: do you know the way to the shoe shop?

“Yes, I do,” I assure Rex. I have memorized every single landmark in the neighborhood, big or small. I lead Rex up the stairs, across the desert all the way to the Nikeclub.

The Nikeclub is a small band of children. Similar to the bar, but appears to have less members. The only member I have ever met is Lise. Lise…

Oh, we’re at the Nikeclub already! Because of previous visits, there is a large hole in the wall of the Nikeclub. This makes it much easier to enter, exit and see Lise. I point at the hole. “This is the entrance to the Nikeclub,” I tell Rex. We jump through the hole and I see Lise at the counter. How does she manage to look so perfect even in an apocalypse? She is a wonder. She even manages to keep this shoe shop homely, lively and happy.

“Hello, Tom! Welcome to the Nikeclub! Would you like to trade?”

I’m worried for Lise. She and her team don’t Scavenge, they rely on trading shoes with other groups for food and drink. But despite Lise being infinitely skilled, she does not make shoes. How will the Nikeclub— how will Lise survive when they run out of shoes to trade?

“Hi, Lise, yes, I would like to trade! I need to buy new shoes for Rex.” Only now do I notice Rex has no shoes. Was that where the unholy stink came from?

“Wonderful!” Lise exclaims, to polite to comment on the smell. “What size?”

“Finity-inay!” Rex yells.

Infinity?

“Can he just try them on?” I suggest.

Well, it certainly takes ages. The Nikeclub has lots of shoes left to trade with. I get a good look at how gently and perfectly Lise works. She even gives Rex a “The Customer Is Always Right” look.

She is such an angel. Eventually she does find a fitting shoe.

“Would you look at that! A Cinderella-style fit!” Lise comments. She turns to me. “I would give you a special discount, but as it happens the Nikeclub really needs some food. So let’s say, a few biscuits should pay for Rex’s shoes.” 

I give Lise some biscuits I had in my pocket. Zoe gave them to me for trading. Lise is so kind, she always gives me special discounts.

“Et’s-lay o-gay,” Rex says to me. Translation: let’s go. It’s so sad the only times I can chat with Lise are when someone needs to buy shoes. The only times I can talk to her alone are when I need new shoes. I reluctantly guide Rex back to the bar.

I step back inside the bar. A strong whiff of children’s sweat enters my nostrils. I don’t notice how much the bar stinks until after a trip to the Nikeclub. I mean, Oldest does her best but the stink is unavoidable really, with this many kids running around. I survey the surroundings. Sam is drinking from a large barrel. He greets me.

“I found this!” He explains. “I have no idea what it is, it tastes really bad but I can’t stop drinking it!” He takes another large gulp from the barrel. What is Sam drinking? It smells strange.

Clara walks up to us. “That’s wine, Sam,” she tells him. “If you drink too much, you’ll get drunk.”

Did Sam find that in the bar?

“I don’t care,” Sam retorts. “I’m still drinking it.” 

Clara turns away from Sam and shakes her head. Then she sees me.

“Tom! Look at my new patch!”

I carefully study Clara’s new patch. It’s very new and I can barely see the stitches. Zoe is getting much better at sewing. I look at the oldest of my patches. The stitches are clearly visible. I look around at everyone. Every single person in the bar has at least one patch. These patches are memoirs of the adventures we had getting them.

“Hey, Sam, what’s that?” Zoe asks. She’s noticed Sam’s drink. “Whatever it is, you’re supposed to ration it.”

Sam finishes drinking from the barrel and throws it aside. He staggers about. “Hic- why are there Hic- two of you, Zoe?” He then starts to mumble gibberish.

Zoe stares into Sam’s soul. She looks at me. “That barrel contained alcohol, right?”

“Y e a h,” I answer.

“That liability should be clapped in irons. I’m glad he didn’t share, then we’d have a hive of drunken idiots.” Zoe turns to Clara. “Good thing he can’t do any damage, the only sharp things we have are pins, needles and embroidery scissors, and I don’t let those out of my sight.”

“I wonder,” muses Clara, “What does Sam use to cut his hair? He certainly doesn’t use your embroidery scissors…” Clara cuts herself off as she sees Sam using safety scissors to cut a fancy pillow open. Zoe follows her gaze and blows a fuse.

“SAM?! You cut open a pillow?” Clara yells.

“Feather Hic- fight,” Sam manages. “I Hic- sleepy,”  shortly before collapsing on the floor. Everyone stares in shock. Eventually, Oldest breaks the silence by asking what happened.

“Sam got drunk,” Clara explains.

Oldest lifts a lock of Sam’s hair, and seeing he is sleeping soundly, decides to give him a haircut. I wonder how he’ll feel when he wakes up and has a neat haircut.

Sure enough, Sam is in shock. 

“Gaaaaaah! What did you do to me?” He gasps.

“I cut your hair!” Oldest tells him. “Isn’t it adorable?”

Sam runs off.

“Where’s he going?” Oldest wonders.

I have no idea.

Meanwhile, Sam cuts his hair even worse than before.

Oldest doesn’t look for Sam. Instead, she prepares to teach everyone things they would normally learn if they hadn’t experienced the alien invasion. She also teaches simple tips on how to Scavenge and be a good member of the bar kids community .

“Gather round,” starts Oldest gently, “Listen up. To survive in the desert you need memory, skill and just a little luck.”

“I don’t believe in luck,” Zoe adds.

“You should!” A kid sitting at a far away table butts in. “The fact Sam is alive is all the proof you need.”

Sam did not like that. He turns an interesting shade of violet. “HEY!!!”

“Shut your big, fat mouth and lock it tight, Onyx!” Zoe yells. Zoe believes building a sense of community, commitment, comfort and comradeship is important for the survival of the bar kids. She thinks Onyx is really ruining that. Speaking of which, she doesn’t really treat him as a comrade or a member of the community. I suspect they were enemies before the apocalypse.

Oldest pretends nothing happened and proceeds to teach us all math. Zoe notices and tells Oldest there is no point in teaching us math in the apocalypse.

“Teach them something useful instead!”

“But what about when the apocalypse ends? Won’t everyone need to use these skills in their lives then?”

“It might not!” Onyx yells.

“SHUT UP!” Zoe screams from behind the counter. She appears to believe everything will get better. I reckon everyone in the bar has some form of faith our parents will come back and things will return to normal. We need to, otherwise we’ll lose all sanity.

“Where is Mummy and Daddy?” A small child asks Oldest. Suddenly the small children all bombard Oldest with questions.

“Is Mummy in heaven?”

“Are they safe?”

“Are we alone forever?”

“Does Mummy miss me?”

“Is Daddy happy?”

“Is Mum okay?”

“Did they fight the aliens?”

“Is this annoying?” 

“Will Dad come back?”

“Are our parents breaking free?”

Eventually Oldest manages to answer some of the questions.

“I don’t know what happened to our mummies and daddies,” she says gently, “but until then we have each other!”

Zoe leans on the counter looking uninterested. Then she perks up.

“I’ll tell you why we call Bonesmashers Bonesmashers!” Then she begins to tell her story.

“It was before I founded the bar. I was out at night with two other children. The wind was howling so loud, we didn’t hear it coming. Before we could react, it was upon us. It left as quickly as it came, taking one of my companions with it. We were helpless against the sudden attack. We never saw our friend again, but for the rest of the night we heard horrible screams, feral roars and the sound of cracking bones.”

Yikes.

Oldest looks around at all the terrified faces. “Too much, Zoe.”

That night, I had a very hard time going to sleep, and when I did successfully snooze, it was only to have some very nasty nightmares about all the Bonesmashers breaking in and chewing my bones.

Surprisingly, these nightmares were not what woke me up. I woke up because someone was sucking my foot. Not a pleasant experience.

I walk over to the counter. Onyx appears to be complaining to Zoe. He has bloodshot eyes, so I assume he was woken up by nightmares. “Good morning,” I greet them.

“Bad morning actually,” Onyx pipes up. “We’re out of bread.”

“No one asked you, Onyx.” Zoe says irritably.

I can’t help but notice a very awkwardly placed patch on Onyx’s trousers. Normally Zoe is all against wasting resources, but she made an exception for Onyx’s crime of “being very useless” by cutting a square out of his trousers and sewing it back on. Onyx had to wander around without them for two days. I felt kinda sorry for him.

“But seriously, baked beans for breakfast?” Onyx complains. “Yuck!”

“You’re supposed to have baked beans for breakfast! That’s what they were designed for!” Zoe shakes her head at Onyx. She puts two bowls on the counter, opens a tin of baked beans, does a mental calculation of how much each person should get, then puts exactly 4 beans in one bowl and fills one quarter of the other one with beans, purposefully giving Onyx the bowl with 4 beans and giving me the larger portion. It’s one of her rules: the more you do for the community, the more food you get. Onyx never scavenges. Zoe only feeds him the bare minimum required to keep him alive. Actually, even my “big contributor” portion is rather small. Zoe believes we should save as much food as possible in case a sandstorm occurs. Zoe has stored enough food to last us three weeks in an emergency, but I suppose sandstorms can be unpredictable. I heard a rumor that a whole thriving community had been wiped out by a sudden and violent sandstorm. When the sand covered everything, the climate changed. This is almost like an alien world to me, compared to the predictable, temperate home I knew. You learn to love what you have in the desert though. 

As soon as I have finished my breakfast, Zoe tells me the mission. I’m supposed to retrieve the shovels me, Sam and Clara left behind.

“You did this so you fix it. Take Sam with you, since he also left my stuff behind. I would make Clara join you, but she’s Scavenging for food at the moment.”

“But someone could have already taken them!” I interject. 

“And you could get the boot! Stop lounging around and get those shovels!”

“Yes boss!”

After a long and painful walk, Sam and I arrive at the electronics shop only to find the shovels have gone. Sam states the obvious.

“Yes, Sam, I know the shovels are gone—LOOK!” I jump aside as a jeep comes towards us, sand billowing behind it. I know the drivers. They’re members of another community. That community is composed entirely of kids about Oldest’s age. They seem to hate us. I’ve seen them mark territory by peeing before. Disgusting primitive bullies. 

“Yahoo!” One of the bullies yells. The jeep runs over one of Sam’s legs. There’s this horrible cracking noise as Sam screams.

Those jerks don’t deserve to survive. 

The bullies exit the jeep and run at us. As they approach, I see our shovels in their dirty, mangy warty hands.

“Gotcha now,” one says in a gruff voice.

“Now,” the other adds, “we’ll—uh.. BACK TO THE JEEP!”

They immediately dash to their jeep, leaving our shovels behind. I pick them up. Why did they just leave? That was odd. I look around. Then I see it. A huge sandstorm is coming towards us. I shield my face from the sand. I hate sandstorms. They are, if possible, worse than Bonesmashers. They come completely without warning, and there’s nothing you can do to stop them. I grope around for Sam. “Sam? Sam!”

“I’m here,” mumbles Sam, barely audible. “My leg hurts.” 

I follow Sam’s voice and find him. Luckily, we’re not that far away from each other. I grab his hand and lead him back to the bar. I see that Zoe appears to have been arguing with Onyx, based on his traumatized expression. Zoe is about to ask us where the shovels are when she notices the sand covering us. 

“What happened? Sandstorm?”

“Yup,” I confirm. “And we did find those shovels, but we also found the disgusting primitive bullies. They ran over Sam’s leg and now it hurts.”

“Those dirt-ass nematodes should be hanged, their guts drawn out and fed to the vultures! They should burn in hell for all eternity and they should have all their bones broken in fifty-one places! They deserve to suffer, bleed and die in the desert!”

After Zoe rants for a while, she calms down.

“Oh, by the way, Sam, is your leg okay?” She examines the damage for a while. “Well, it’s broken.”

“Oh no!” Sam gasps. “Can you fix it?”

“I can—about as much as you can swim without water. We don’t have a splint.”

“We can find one!”

“Not in this sandstorm. We’ll have to wait it out.”

The storm lasted for three days. Those three days, we got less rations than normal, since we didn’t know how long it would last. It’s times like this I am thankful for Zoe’s rations.

Sam looks out of the periscope (don’t ask why we have one), and he sees the last grains of sand fall to the ground. “It stopped!” He jumps for joy, then falls to the ground in pain. I open the door, only for a pile of sand to fall on my head. Onyx laughs and steps on me, scattering sand everywhere.

“You make a good step, Tom!”

“Onyx, you better come back and clean that up!” Zoe yells.

Onyx looks truly wretched.

“Tom, go to the Nikeclub and see if Lise and her friends need any help.”

Happy to oblige.

When I get to the Nikeclub I notice sand has got in through the hole in the wall. The Nikeclub seems to be on a state of complete disrepair. I think back to a few days ago when everything shone like diamonds. Lise, however, is still sitting behind the counter.

“Hi Lise.”

“Good to see you safe, Tom.”

She cares about me! “Is there anything you need help with, Lise?”

“Thank you so much! We’re in short supply of food, water, clothes, medical supplies,…”

She sounds so sad and desperate.

“TOM I SIMPLY CAN’T STAND IT ANY LONGER!” Lise hugs me with teary eyes. “There’s only two of us left now. Timothy got caught out in the storm. By the time we found him, the vultures… everyone else starved right here in front of me. They purposely gave me the biggest food shares. I can’t live like this anymore! I thought the day with Zoe and the first Bonesmasher was the last straw! I can’t stand living here, pretending everything is alright when children are dying every day and I can’t stand losing everyone I ever cared about one by one, I can’t stand being unable to do anything about the horrors taking place in this world.”

Poor Lise. We all feel like that.

“And, Tom, I miss my mother…”

“Me too, Lise. Me too.”

 I hug Lise for a while. Then I see a boy in my peripheral vision with spiky black hair and an oversized suitcase.

“Uh, hi Lise, and random guy she’s hugging, am I interrupting something?” He asks.

We all pause for a moment.

“…no?” I eventually respond.

“I can’t stay here, Tom!” Lise says desperately. “I don’t think of this place like a home anymore!”

“It’s okay, Lise. You can come to the bar with me.”

“I can? You’ll help me?”

“Of course! Always!”

After a few seconds, the spiky haired boy once again interrupts.

“I really feel like I’m interrupting something. So, Lise, if we’re going to move, can I bring my cheez doodle collection?” I notice that on the suitcase, there are big letters spelling Nate’z Cheez Doodles in bad handwriting. I can’t see why Nate shouldn’t bring his collection, but Zoe will probably object.

Later:

“Of course we have to ration it!” 

“They’re my cheez doodles!”

Clara walks up to Lise. “Hi Lise, I’m sorry for all your losses.”

“Thank you all so much for caring,” Lise replies.

I once again look around at the bar. All the safe, happy kids. Most come and go, but some of us always stay. As long as we’re safe and surviving, we’re beating the aliens and making our parents proud. You could, in fact, say we’ll live happily ever after.

7