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resolutely replied, “I will, thank you.”
    Mick could not help but to smile. Kathryn exuded an admirable eternal optimism, just like her mother. Mick loved that about her. Even though it was naive to think the world would truly ever improve. The devastation was too vast to ever go back to how it had been. Nothing could change that now. But her attitude was a bright spot among all the gloom. And to squelch that seemed like a disservice to them all.
    “ Well,” Sarah said, sliding up next to Kathryn at the table.
    “ Well what?”
    She looked over to Mick’s right and down at the table. “Aren’t you going to blow out your candle?”
    Candle?
    Mick followed Sarah’s gaze to the center of the industrial metal table. And there it was, just like Sarah said. A real wax candle. He hadn’t noticed its flame hidden by the dim glow of the lamp. The flame’s flicker quickly mesmerized him. The blue candle had a white swirling curve that ran from its bottom to its top, around its circumference, to where the dancing flame turned it to liquid wax, lessening it drip by drip. But what really caught him off guard was what the candle rose from. It looked like a cake, at least from where he was standing. A rectangular and strange-looking cake at that. It had to be an illusion.
    Mick bent down to get a closer look. “Is this what I think it is?”
    Laurel nodded, smiled.
    He furrowed his brow, perplexed. “A real cake?”
    “ Well, sort of,” Laurel said. “Remember a few months back when Greg went to gather supplies? You had that nasty flu or something?” She reached to her right and gathered a stack of time-stained plates while she spoke.
    Mick remembered it well. Greg had been gone for nearly three days. It was much longer than Greg had initially intended to be gone, and far longer than Mick was comfortable with. It had turned out to be one of the most worthwhile trips any of them had ever taken. He had returned with two blister packs of antibiotics. If that had been pre-Colossus, it would have been like Greg walking in with an armful of gold.
    “ Well,” Laurel continued, “Greg found something when he was out there. And he purposely didn’t tell you about it.” She placed the stack of plates next to the cake. “You’re always the one to take care of us, Mick. So we figured we’d stash what he found and save it.” She scrunched her nose in a cute way. “Heck, it lasted through a global apocalypse. What was another few months?”
    With his face still close to the cake, Mick said, “You know, it’s funny. This thing looks a lot like—”
    “ A big Twinkie?” Laurel laughed. “That’s because it is. We mushed them all together.”
    “ That’s great,” Mick said, delighted.
    “ Well, we’ll see about that,” Sarah said. “It was the best we could do. The bakery was out of their fresh stuff.”
    Laurel went to the far side of the room and banged on the exposed heating conduit that led to the roof. “Greg,” she shouted into the vent. “Cake.” She then turned toward the rest of the group. “Or whatever we’re calling it.”
    “ I’ll get the guys,” Kathryn said, vanishing from the room to gather Sandeep and Chester from their task of inventorying.
    Being the center of attention had never been Mick’s thing. He preferred to lie low and let others rush around him. To silently observe whenever possible. However, it seemed as though this celebration was going to happen with or without his consent. Whether he liked it or not.
    As the rest of the group prepared what would prove to be an awful-tasting “cake” experience, Mick reached into the inner pocket of his tattered blue peacoat and removed a faded and slightly burned photograph. With his back to the group, he gently caressed the picture of his wife with his thumb. The room was dim, but he did not need much light to see every contour of her face. He stared at it for hours at a time, memorizing what he could to replace what he had forgotten. At