“I think I just met the happiest person in the world.”

Dahl turned from where he was bent over his desk, frowning at the dark-haired woman standing behind him. A wisp of smoke rose from his project as a small drop of solder smouldered in place and began to harden.

“You met who? What are you talking about? Did you get the tanks filled?” Dahl stopped in his questioning and frowned, noting the woman’s expression for the first time. Disturbed. “Amy. Are you alright?”

Amy slowly walked forward and slumped down onto the ratty couch, her eyes distant. “I saw a… woman, when I was at the well. I was halfway through filling the tanks, when I looked around and saw her. She was sitting there in the alleyway, staring at the wall. Clothes all tattered, thin as a ghost, hair half fallen out and --” She paused. “And she was smiling, Dahl. The softest, most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen, on a woman half dead, as she stared into thin air and a drunk puked his guts out on the ground behind her. She didn’t see any of it. She didn’t see herself. All of it, the city, the war, the hunger in her belly and the rot in her skin, none of it bothered her. She was just happy.”

Dahl set his soldering iron down slowly, and turned to face Amy fully, looking into her eyes. “Amy. Are you -- what are you saying?”

Amy looked back. “Why are we doing this, Dahl?”

He paused, taken aback, a worm of dread beginning to twist in his gut. Amy continued.

“Why are we doing any of this? Working, and scavenging, and scrimping and striving every day. What’s it for? I hauled those tanks for two hours today, and what did we get for it? Water that’s only a little brown, that’ll last us maybe a week before I have to go do it again. You stay up all night working on those boards, straining your eyes and breathing in the smoke, and for what? A few bits of paper that’ll be gone even faster? What’s it for, Dahl?”

Dahl tried to answer, but she spoke over him, seeming to have some momentum now, words rolling out of her in a terrible rush as her left hand scratched at her right arm in a quick rhythm.

“Where will we be a month from now? A year? Will it be better? Will we live in a place where the roof doesn’t leak, where we have lights at night and good food for dinner? Will we be warm? Will we be safe? Or will it be worse? Do you know? I don’t. But I’ll tell you what I do know.”

She paused and looked him dead in the eyes.

“No matter what we do. No matter how lucky we are or how hard we work, we will never be as happy as that woman in the alley today.”

Dahl leaned forward and grasped her hands, staring into her eyes and speaking urgently. “Amy. I know how you feel, trust me I do. I know it seems hopeless, and the work is hard, but you can’t --”

“I know.” Amy interrupted, turning her eyes downward. “I know, Dahl, I’m not stupid. I’m not going to do it. But Dahl, I can’t -- I can’t stop remembering. Her smile. I can’t get it out of my head.” She hunched forward, hands twisting out of his to grasp at her head, and next words came out as half a sob. “I don’t think I’ve ever been that happy in my life.”

Dahl reached forward to gather her into his arms. She didn’t resist. But the sobs began in earnest then, and did not stop until late in the night.