The next year begins, the pressure inside the submarine is stable. Everything is normal. I have to hope it's normal. The last thing I need is for the machinery inside to break again and for the storm outside to flood in once more.

I get to live in a fashionable one. I've managed to live a very privileged life, working remotely just the same. I'm connected enough that while I miss the sky above I can talk to all I hold dear daily.

I'm sure there's more oil now than ever. I've done my part in cleaning up the space around the sub so nothing noxious comes inside. I still hold up hope that when we all rise again to greet the rafts of others there's clean water for miles and miles.

We have to hold out hope. Now more than ever. So we can all open the hatch and welcome each other together.