The car doors slam. A lady and her husband walk to the edge of the prairie while putting on their jackets. A squeal of delight comes from the old man as he finally looks up, the lady laughs and tells her husband something. They smile at each other then look forward as they talk.
Their conversation quickly trickles, then stops. They stand in awe, barely remembering to take a picture before they leave.
I’m leaning on my car door, watching as James sets up his tripod.
The air is sharp and cold, but the snowstorm hasn’t started yet. My body is warm.
The field is quiet.