The sampans have vanished, the patties are empty, and water buffalo have been trundled off to wherever they are taken for the night. We seem to be the only people left upon the face of the world. The light fades. Blackness settles upon the water. We are blind.
Rain continues to fall.
The fireworks begin. In the ghostly light of flares the shadows dance. Red and green tracers light up the sky. In the distance the brilliance of hundreds of explosions imprint upon the mind as B-52s let go their lethal load. It is a million 4th of July's.