A Whimsical Future

Months passed since that night in the alley, and barring small, minor incidents, life proceeded on for Michael pertaining with the promise of life as peaceful and as mundane as can be. 

From the receding winter lights bloomed the vibrancy and green of bright spring, eventually stagnating to the scorching, sultry skies of a seemingly endless summer; through the dull clank of tools and spare parts, the flying sparks of welded metal, days would pass on seamlessly from one to the next.

Each and every tomorrow dawning quiet, simple… and very, very normal. 

"Are you happy, Michael?" Lilith asked him one day, the sizzle of breakfast permeating the stillness of an early Sunday morning. "The way we are - are you content?" 

Michael was piqued by the question, enough so to lift his eyes up from his brimming plate of bacon, eggs, and sausages, centering them forward onto the apron-clad figure skillfully flipping pancakes by the stove.