It is Sunday night and some weekend guests are leaving for the city in the dark, and a few people are walking them down from the cottages to their cars. There aren’t many, but they have all come down at the same time, and in this still, silent place there is some confusion. Leah, the vegetarian, from deep inside her neck brace says, Look at this, Look how many people. And little enough happens here so that this has an air of something happening. Through the dark, flashlights beam over the ground, boulders shine in the road, and Leah’s bra straps escape her dress and fall over her thick arms. She is small and full of warnings, and her husband Henry loves her. Flashlights beam across their legs, but in the dark these many faces are hidden.