“It’s not in the truck,” said Phil—mostly to himself. And he watched her go. She looked so ridiculous, limping along with one skate on and one shoe on.

And then he turned and looked out past the illuminated patch of ice they had been skating on and into the darkness and thought about how much he hated it when people pointed out shooting stars to him. Because he never saw them.

He hated it even more when people pointed out the man in the moon. He bet that most people—like him—had never seen the man in the moon and were just too afraid to admit it. Well, he was admitting it: he had never actually seen the man in the moon.

He looked skyward for the moon so he could prove that he couldn’t see the pareidolic image.

But there was no moon in the sky on the night when all the extraordinary things did or didn’t happen. Because it was a new moon. So he couldn’t prove anything.

As he scanned the sky looking for the moon, the Milky Way overwhelmed him. It was so deep. And mesmerizing. And he got a little dizzy—and felt like he might fall up into it.

But then he steadied himself when he heard Marci opening and closing all the doors to the truck, searching for her other shoe in all the same places Phil had searched. And he figured she’d find it. Because Marci always managed to find all the things her son and her daughter and her husband couldn’t find.

“This is so weird,” Marci called down to Phil. “I know I didn’t put my skates on in the car, ’cause the shoe I have on was out there, under the picnic table bench. ’Cause I put my skates on out there with you, right?”

Phil didn’t answer, because he was staring out across the illuminated makeshift ice rink and out into the blackness.

“Phil?” Marci repeated as she made her way back down to the picnic table. “I put my shoes right next to yours after we put our skates on, but it’s not … there. This is the weirdest thing.”

Phil dropped his head in his hands and pressed his palms against his eyes. And wondered how he could be so angry with someone he used to love so much. And he couldn’t breathe for a moment—because he had never thought of Marci as someone that he used to love.

“It’s not in the truck,” continued Marci. “I mean, I’m not gonna put one skate on in the car, the other one on out here—” Marci interrupted herself when she returned to the picnic table, because she saw Phil hunched over, his head in his hands. “Hey—you okay?”

“Huh?” Phil wasn’t okay. He was so sad. But he sat up quickly and did his best not to look sad.

But Marci could tell something wasn’t right. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Oh…” Phil tried to cover up his sadness and lied, “Nothin’.” And then he looked up at the sky and he lied some more. “I’m just makin’ a wish of my own, on a regular one.”