To be completely honest… our love story began with the most modern form of fate: a swipe right. As we got to know each other, we realized something wild — we’d grown up barely ten minutes apart our whole lives and had never crossed paths. When it came time for our first date, Jon — ever the gentleman — insisted on picking Megan up. Megan — ever the tough, independent one — was very much not on board. But after some gentle nudging from friends and family (“He’s just being nice! Give him a chance!”), she sighed, rolled her eyes, and agreed. Fine, he can pick me up. Jon showed up on time… and promptly walked around half the house just to knock on the proper front door. (Who does that in the country? We dont use front doors here. Apparently Jon does.) We set off for Milford to a restaurant Megan picked prior , only to arrive and find it completely pitch black. Closed. Awkward. She picked a backup restaurant down the road… also pitch black. Also closed. At this point, Megan was silently panicking, convinced this was a sign from the universe that she should’ve stayed home. But as they drove through Milford, darkness everywhere -streetlights out, houses unlit - one place glowed at the end of the street: The Dimmick Inn. The only light in town. They sat on the patio, started talking over apps and drinks… and somehow hours slipped by like minutes. They were talking so much the staff had to gently tell them the restaurant was closing — but they were welcome to keep chatting at the indoor bar. They happily agreed. Only then did they learn the whole town had lost power, except The Inn, running on its lone generator. At some point, Megan admitted something honestly: she was very glad she let Jon pick her up. Because if she had driven herself and seen everything dark and closed, she definitely would’ve turned around and gone home. But instead… she stayed. And the one place with the only light in the whole town just happened to be the place where everything began.