East cupped his hands around his eyes and pressed his hands against the glass and stared out into the darkness, certain that someone was out there—someone he had to meet.

And then he slid his Carhartts on over his boxers and pulled his flannel over his gray T-shirt and hurried downstairs, where he put on a coat, pulled on some boots, grabbed his Maglite, and went outside to see who he might find out there in the darkness.

Motion-sensor lights flicked on when he went outside. They illuminated a portion of his backyard—and peeved him a little, because the light they threw allowed him to see only what was in his immediate vicinity and not what was out there in the darkness. And what he was looking for was out there in the darkness.

So he trudged through the deep snow, passed through the pool of light, and made his way into the darkness. Shortly after he did so, the motion-sensor lights flickered off. And he couldn’t see a thing. So he stopped and let his eyes adjust to the lack of light. As they did, he thought about how strange darkness is. It’s not there. But you can’t see through it. Not without a light, anyway. So he clicked on his Maglite and continued on his way to see if anyone was actually out there in the old potato field.

The going was difficult because the snow was thigh-deep in places. But he persevered. And after about a five-minute traipse, he stopped. Because he felt like he wasn’t alone.

Someone was definitely out there, he felt.

“Hello!” called East—loudly enough to be heard but gently enough not to frighten anyone.

“Hello!” called a woman’s voice cheerily. East shone his Maglite in the voice’s direction. And it revealed a woman looking intently up at the sky.

She looked like she was modeling winter clothing for a catalog that sold expensive and stylish winter clothes to people who live in warm places so they have something nice to wear when they visit winter on the occasional weekend. Her jacket was white and had a brightly colored flower pattern exploding all over it. And she had a cerulean blue hat on—with matching scarf and gloves.

And she looked cold.

And it wasn’t cold.

It was nineteen degrees.

The woman looked like she definitely wasn’t from northern Maine.

Or from anywhere in Maine.

Or from anywhere where winter actually happened.

East wondered why she was standing in the middle of his yard—in the middle of winter—in the middle of the night—staring up at the sky.

“I thought I saw someone out here,” he said, hoping the woman would explain what she was doing in his yard. But she didn’t say anything. So East said, “I was about to go to bed and I thought I saw you from my window.”

The woman didn’t respond and just kept looking up at the sky.

East followed her gaze upward to see what she was looking at.