Eternal Happiness

"Em, Did you order something?!" Connor yelled, nearly losing his slippers as he quickly hopped back into the entryway. He shut the door, sealing the biting winter wind back outside where it belonged.

His wife, Emily, unenthusiastically looked up from her bowl of oatmeal and shrugged, "Maybe it's a cheque for a million dollars?" It wasn't a question and Emily's sarcasm was definitely palpable.

"Jesus, it could be," Connor mumbled as he shook the bubble mailer. "It's so light I nearly threw it in the garbage." He began tugging at the "easy tear" strip at the top, which was anything but easy.

Em stood from the breakfast table and meandered over to her husband who was deep in struggle. "Gib. I have tricks," she said, reaching out to Connor with repeated, toddler-like hand gestures.

"What, like Hulk-level strength?" Connor exhaled as he looked up towards her, spotting a pair of scissors in her hand. "Oh." He reluctantly handed it over realizing his effort was futile.

"It's okay, I'm sure I'll need a jar opened later or something," Em winked.

"I feel triggered..."

Emily effortlessly cut through the envelope and tossed it back to Connor. "I know, you only married me for my brains."

Connor cocked an eyebrow. "I also married you for your uncanny ability to extrapolate any random statement into a political argument."

"Like I said," she insisted, plopping herself down onto her stool at the breakfast table and shovelling another spoonful of oatmeal sloppily into her mouth, "my brains."

Connor leaned over and cautiously peered into her bowl. "Christ, it looks like prison slop. Put some fruit in there or something."

"I like my oatmeal like I like my men." Em waited an extra beat for Connor to finish her analogy.

"Plain, tasteless, and mildly satisfying?" The sentence gradually slowed as Connor came to the sudden realization that he had just insulted himself and not her taste.

Em squinted, smiling deviously. "There ya go." She dove back into her bowl.

"Ugh, it's too early for this," Connor relented, moseying lazily over to his own stool. "I'm not up on my game." He tipped the envelope upside down onto the table and a small, black notebook fell from the opening and slapped onto the table's surface. They both paused.

"That's... odd." Connor couldn't help but just stare at it. It was pocket sized, bound in what looked to be black leather and was held shut by an elastic band encircled haphazardly around it.

"Does it say where it's from?" Em asked. Repeatedly. Connor was frozen, still holding the envelope upside down.

"Huh?" He had finally snapped out of his momentary stupor. "Oh."

Connor twisted the envelope around every which way trying to see if there was anything written on it. He finally shrugged, looking back at Emily. "Nothing."

"Huh..." Emily began tapping the end of her spoon on the side of her bowl, a rather annoying manifestation of her mild curiosity. "So... I guess we take a peek inside, then?"

Connor looked down toward the notebook. "But... what if it's like... someone's private journal or something?"

Emily rolled her eyes. "Then why would they mail it to us?"

"I dunno. Any dead relatives you forgot about? I'm just thinking out loud."

"Thinking is a strong word," she said as she snatched the notebook off the table before Connor could react.

"Now let's see here..." Em grasped at the elastic band and carefully pulled it off. Connor stared silently in anticipation while Emily's eyes darted back and forth across the first page.

Connor slowly reached over to the now-abandonded bowl of oatmeal and gingerly pulled it across the table, being careful not to alert his distracted wife.

"Holy crap..." Em gasped.

Connor had nearly managed a spoonful into his mouth before Em blurted out. "What is it?"

Emily slowly closed the notebook. She looked back and forth thinking of how to explain what she had just read. "It's... better if you see for yourself," she replied, sliding the notebook across the table.

Connor reluctantly put the spoon back into the bowl and picked up the book, carefully opening it to the first page. As he scanned through the handwritten words, his eyes grew wide with disbelief.

"No way. This can't be real." Connor snapped the book shut and put it down in front of him. The room became very quiet.

"What do we do?" Em asked after a long moment of silence.

Connor looked up at his wife. "What do you think we should do?"

Em stood from her stool and walked over to her husband. "I don't need some magical quest book to tell me that I can find eternal happiness," she said as she cradled his face in her hands, "because I've already found it." She leaned over and softly kissed him on the lips. It wasn't a kiss of passion, but one of contentment, of happiness.

Connor had never loved her more than that exact moment in time. The truth was he had loved her when he first met her, but he would remember this moment for the rest of his life, even moreso than their wedding day. He suspected she would too.

"I love you," was all Connor could muster, but it was genuine. He was struggling to maintain his composure. He placed his hand on hers and enjoyed the feeling of her soft skin on his cheek.

"And besides," Em said, looking over to the blizzard that was raging outside, "not even twenty thousand bucks in prize money is gonna make me go outside in that fucking weather."