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On perfect fall evenings like this, we can see our breath. Street lights make these little clouds visible, luminous. It's cold enough that we are both keeping our hands in coat pockets, but the hood of my car holds the heat and we sit on the edge of it.

Way up above powerlines and the roofs of row houses, silver clouds pass across the sky. Our necks are stretched way back (you can hear the little snap) and we squint at red airplane lights and blue stars. Sometimes we can hear the whirl of a police helicopter as it passes by our block. Blinking green lights and a single search light shooting down and around, sometimes blinding us. For a moment.

Mostly, we just sit and watch our steam rise until it disappears. The hot metal of the car engine clicks as it cools and we don't say anything at all. Maybe we sit there for a couple of minutes. Maybe its four or five hours. I don't know. On these kind of evenings I never look at a watch.

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