7 Years From Now Romane & Geschichten

SEVEN YEARS LATER | NEW YORK The years went by quickly and now JL and I have four children. Lawrence is our oldest and now six years old. He was followed by Genevieve, Georgina, and Gaia. Yes, I was pregnant every year. So we have a six, five, four, and three-year-old in the house.

He minus the 2020 to 1988 and her eyes winded after knowing his already thirty years old. "What the heck? That man is already thirty years old? And how many years our gap is...)" she paused and counts in her fingers, "Twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty, thirty-one, and thirty-two—the fudge! Seven years of gap." She snorted and rolled her eyes.

Jordi announces to the table, with the satisfaction of a narrator confirming the official record. Valentina writes in the notebook after dinner: Noa, seven years old. 'Six is just being. Seven is starting to know what you are.' She will spend the rest of her life refining this observation. At seven she has the principle. At seventeen she will have the language. At seventy she will have the depth. The bowl. Made again, at a different resolution. Seven years old. Starting to know what they are. They always knew.

And together, we would uncover the secrets hidden within the shadows and fight for our survival. Seven Years Later… The early morning sunlight seeped through the crevices of the cave, casting gentle rays upon the damp stones. I stood there, sweat dripping down my forehead, no longer the helpless 10-year-old girl who had lost everything seven years ago. I had grown, both in age and strength. Now at 17 years old, I was determined to avenge my pack and bring justice to those who had caused their demise.

Or at least t rying to be. Seven years. I had seven years to figure out how to survive this. And I'd just taken the first step

Sighing, he recalled what happened eight years ago. Arcadia Falls. 17th July 2042 Moving threads of her hair behind her ears, she sat in the park next to an old woman. Her mind was glued to her phone because she joined a social media group created by some of her friends in her school. She was 17 years old and she had a big dream of being fluent in different languages because she loved reading books written by different authors in various languages in the world. As she stood on her feet, she began to trudge to the exit of the park, searching for service.

I said and she chuckled. “True.. I guess we should travel alone when we reach our 14th year anniversary.” She said and I looked at her disbelief. “You’re mean.” “What?” “I have to wait 7 years?” I asked and she laughed. “5 years?” “You’re funny.” “4 years?” “No.” “Fine! 8 years.” “Why go up instead of going down?!” I scoffed and she laughed. “Fine, in 2 years.” “In a year.” I protested.

Until whatever came next. Seven weeks. Starting now.

A final obsession she couldn’t let go of before she died. But to me? It was nothing but a contract that should’ve ended a long time ago. And now, the seven years were up. Looking around, I realized— there was nothing here worth staying for anymore.

Seven years, but that’s just the beginning. We have the rest of our lives ahead of us, and I know it’s going to be the best time of our lives.