"THINGS LIKE THIS HAVE HAPPENED ALL THROUGHOUT HUMAN HISTORY," Mr. Choi ranted as he unpacked a box of canned corn. "Ancient Rome? When it fell, there were pockets all over Europe of people like us. Regular folks just trying to get by. Survive. Same old song. Nothing to be upset about."

"But what he's not mentioning are the Dark Ages that followed. The Black Death. Witch hunts..." Mr. Arnold muttered as he put the cans neatly away in the cabinet under their sink.

Mr. Choi and Mr. Arnold had taken up residence in one of the RVs still in good condition. Bicycles bearing training wheels leaned against the chicken wire fence out front and a plastic swing set was molding green in the backyard. It was the home where I had done the dishes and put them away, as though I had been expecting the older couple.

"How old are you again, Ben?" Mr. Choi turned to him.

"25."

"And your... wife?"

Ben and I exchanged an uncomfortable glance. I smoothed out my white cotton dress, the nicest thing I owned. I'd pilfered it from the closet next door.

"I'm not-"

"She's not-"

We attempted to explain ourselves simultaneously. It had been just the two of us for so long. The need to label ourselves to others had never been an issue.

"They aren't married, Richard," Mr. Arnold droned. "Don't you know by now that this generation doesn't get married, even if they can legally, even if it's the end of the world."

"So how old are you, Miss..." Mr. Choi turned to me, studying my countenance to make a silent estimate.

"Annabeth Kidd."

"You look awful young, Annabeth."

"20."

"That's young," Mr. Arnold muttered.

"That is young. But 25 and 20 isn't too big of a spread. I was 19 when I met this guy. We were in the army. Fought in Vietnam together. And he was 28. Hasn't left my side since. Some men are just like that. Mate for life."

"Stop it, Richard. You're making them uncomfortable," Mr. Arnold chided. "Perhaps this is just a relationship of convenience."

It was like it would never end. All the questions and opinions that would have come from my deceased mother and grandmother were being channeled through our new neighbors in our Post-Apocalyptic trailer park. Ben scratched the back of his head, ruffling his curls, still damp from his shower.

"So how long have you two been... together?" Mr. Choi chose to ignore his partner of forty years.

Ben cleared his throat, his mouth twitching in an obliging, pained smile. I had never realized how little he liked being the center of attention. It would never have occurred to me. "Three months."

Both men stopped, eyebrows raised.

"A lot has happened in the last three months," Mr. Arnold commented.

"Yes, a lot has," I repeated with a shrug, turning to another box of supplies. "Can I help you with these?"

Mr. Choi swatted my hands away. "Oh no. You look too nice to be put to work. Can't tell you how long it's been since I saw a young lady in a sundress. So how did you two meet?"

"... on... the road," I answered, casting a quick glance in Ben's direction where he leaned against the counter, smirking with his arms crossed over his chest.

"You met on the road three months ago?" Mr. Arnold nodded. "Well. Who are we to judge? We fell in love in the middle of a war. I suppose this is no different."

Ben shifted a step away from me at the word love. I wasn't sure how I felt about that, but tried not to let it bother me.

"We want to have you over for supper tomorrow," Mr. Choi added amiably. "You should wear that dress again, Annabeth. That way it will feel like a real party."

We walked the dusty lane towards our own trailer, Ben's hands in his pockets. He bumped my elbow as he kicked a stone.

"Well. We hoped we weren't the last ones left in the state of Maine. Those two seem to be doing their best to make sure we don't forget it," I commented wryly. "But I like them. Where did you find them again?"

"About an hour south. Their truck had broken down coming up from Portsmouth. They said there is nothing south of Boston worth going towards. North is the best answer, the least affected."

I remembered the chaos in the streets of Portland on the day everything happened. I remembered the looting, guns firing, martial law breaking down. The bodies. I couldn't imagine a place worse than that. But then I thought of Boston or New York City. No, it could get much, much worse.

He retrieved a pack of Marlboros from his pocket and lit one as we stopped outside our trailer. Cat blinked apathetically towards us from his perch in the kitchen window, flicking his tail. I moved towards the door, but Ben gently caught my wrist. Perching his fingers under my chin, he lifted my face.

"Hey. Are you okay with these changes? They are good people, nothing to be scared of. I know by now."

"Of course. More than okay. It's a relief to know more good people survived," I said with a sigh.

"How about everything that was said back there?" He grimaced. "I mean, it's kind of stupid considering the state of everything. We never thought about it before now, but you are a bit young for me-"

"Do things like that matter anymore? Will they ever again? Five years age difference isn't the end of the world." I winced at my accidental word choice, but Ben barked a short laugh.

He tossed the cigarette to the ground prematurely, crushing it under his heel. His eyes trailed the length of me. "I've never seen you in a dress."

I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and looked away, biting back a grin. "No need for one, I guess. But it made me feel good to dress up to go visiting."

"You should more often. Only if you feel like it, of course."

We were both too overwhelmed by the events of the afternoon to eat dinner. The sundress was left where it fell, crumpled on the kitchen linoleum, till the next day.

The rising humidity woke us the next morning. The sweltering air hung in the trailer like a damp blanket, the married aroma of freshly pruned roses and acrid gunpowder permeating our bedroom. We closed the blinds against the worst of the sun, but cracked the windows for a breeze. 

"I know they threatened to do it, but days like today make me wonder if they really did drop a nuclear bomb somewhere," he growled, laying face down with his arm draped over my waist.

I trailed my fingertips over the pale underside of his forearm, touch tacky with sweat. "I've about had it with living in the dark ages. I miss air conditioning."

"So not refrigeration or light bulbs? It's the AC that you miss the most?"

I sat up on my elbows to catch the waft of the fan. "At this moment? Yes."

Since our newcomers had arrived the previous day, there had been a lightness to our banter. For the last three months, I'd needed him like oxygen. Something different was happening now.

He chuckled as he retrieved a plastic water bottle from the floor. He took a sip then spilled some into the dip over my collarbone with a grin.

"You are in a really good mood," I laughed as he kissed the water from my damp neck.

"It was nice to find something other than dead bodies or insane, desperate gunmen on the road," he murmured as he pushed me back onto the bed.

Fear sank into my heart despite the urgent fever of his touch. I had never asked details from him about what he saw out there. When he was home, I wanted him to be home. This was a safe place and we were both protective of it.

"Okay. Enough." I playfully pushed him away after a minute and pulled my t-shirt on over my head. "I need to shower."

"Do it later," he complained, falling back into the sheets. "It's too hot. Stay with me."

"We have a dinner date, remember? Over at the Arnold-Choi's?" I grabbed a folded towel nearby. "We have a social calendar now. And I don't think our neighbors are going to allow us to forget it."