Of course, they did. It was natural. They felt good, they felt bad. They laughed, they cried. They woke, they slept. They walked, they sat. They lived, they died. They laughed. Times were hard, and stayed hard for a long time. But the people of Dublin still laughed, although sometimes—often—it wasn’t easy. The children knew now that they had power. They smiled their secret smiles when they met, and they pointed up at the sky. When they saw a cloud, a big dark one starting to form, they gathered together—just a few of them—and shouted “Brilliant.” Sometimes, though, they permitted the clouds to visit Dublin and rain, for days. The water was needed, and the tourists expected it. So did the dogs. “Will it ever, like, stop raining?” said Sadie. “Probably not,” said Chester. “It’s flattening my fur,” said Sadie. “Oh my God.” “It suits you,” said Chester. They sat together outside the empty house, where that man, Ben Kelly, had lived. There was no one living there now.
