The sound of the carriage screeching up the tunnel was close to unbearable. After two months of (for the most part) quiet conversation with the occasional riot and drill, all this noise was making Esteban’s ears rattle. The aspirin tablets were only barely keeping down yesterday’s meal which made constant threats as the tunnel twisted upwards.

The air was so stiff in his little carriage and he feared that it might run out. Below the air was dusty and dry but this was less quinching even than the cave 2300 metres below.

Slowly a dim light seeped through the crack between carriage and wall and Esteban ran his fingers under the grey threads that looked so foreign to his black adjusted eyes. The air lightened and cooled and without warning the carriage flooded with warmth and the crisp Chilean air. The bright light stunned his eyes into staccato blinking as they weeped tears of joy. His arms filled with the warmth of his fiancee and he repeated his message.

“Let’s buy the dress and we’ll get married.