And there it was. The truth. From both of them. For the first time in a long time.

“Well, then…” Marci smiled, even though her heart was heavy and achy. She was good at smiling when she didn’t mean it, and then asked, “What are we doin’?”

And Marci and Phil looked—really looked—at each other for the first time in a long time.

And neither of them much liked what they were looking at.

So they looked out onto the lake—past the illuminated makeshift ice rink and out into the darkness.

And they sat in the stillness. And felt … nothing. A winter night in northern Maine can make you feel nothing. Because it can make you feel senseless. The cold can numb your hands and feet, so you can’t feel them. Cold air is practically odorless, so you can’t smell anything. And it’s so dark, you feel like you can’t see. And it’s so quiet, you feel like you can’t hear.

So none of your senses feel like they work.

And you feel senseless.

Numb.

Which was how Marci and Phil felt.

Phil sat down next to Marci at the picnic table.

And neither of them knew what to say.

And neither of them knew what to do.

And then—they both felt a strange peace. And a strange lightness filled up their insides—and made them feel like they had just been released of a heavy, heavy weight. And also—like everything was going to be okay, somehow. Eventually.

Marci turned to Phil and asked, “Phil?”

“Yeah?”

“I asked you a question: What are we doin’?”

“I don’t know,” answered Phil.

Marci didn’t know what they were doing either.

“Well then … what are we waiting for?” asked Marci.

Phil didn’t know what Marci meant by the question and was about to ask—when something fell.

From the sky.

Into the snow.

Right in front of them.

Phil and Marci jumped—Phil all the way up onto his feet. And they looked down in front of them to see what had fallen from the sky.

It had fallen far enough and fast enough that it had almost disappeared into the snow—into a hole of its own making.

Phil shone his flashlight on the hole as he went toward it.

Marci followed.

And Phil reached into the hole.

And dug out a shoe. A new black waterproof slip-on faux-suede winter shoe from L.L.Bean.

It was Marci’s other shoe.

And it had dropped.

From the sky.

Phil and Marci looked at each other.

And then looked back at the shoe.

And then they looked up to see if maybe it had fallen out of a tree or something. But there were no tree branches above them. Just the sky—which was all aglow with the northern lights. Which normally would have elicited more awe from the Pelkeys. But the shoe that had fallen from above—from seemingly out of nowhere—was hogging all the awe.

Marci and Phil looked down at the shoe that Phil was holding.

And then looked back up at the sky. Which was still full of the northern lights.