Starlight is light, enough to see by, and the blankets are grayish patches on darker gray yard. I can see Howie and Ray, the skin of their arms like wavy strips when they point out a constellation or a jet switching on its lights for the turn to Detroit. Howie's sitting up and his right arm moves around, maybe touching Ray. Or maybe he's exercising his hand. There's a noise in the weeds across the field, a deer or something walking along.
Crickets are at it, which makes the dark clearer, more see-through.
Overhead, the Milky Way ribbons along. So now it is quiet. I look over and see Ray sit up. Hepple, who's said nothing for a long time, breathes in sharp and pulls himself up on his elbows. That's what it said.