What’s that noise?

Kids.

Sounds like guns.

Kids. Out past curfew. Are there curfews anymore? We used to have them, he sat up, lit a cigarette. Remember? she rolled over and looked out the window. No stars out. Just black. Booming noises sounded again.

What is that?

Bottle rockets. A dad’s shotgun. I don’t know.

Those two don’t sound the same, she said. I’m guessing they’re guns.

Probably.

Then why did you say fireworks?

I don’t know. It’ll be over soon, he put out his smoke and walked to the kitchen. Turned the lights on. Clock said 2:40. He poured himself a whiskey. Sat at the table. Reflecting. She walked in.

It’ll help me, he said.

Sleep?

Yeah, more shots were heard.

That sounds close.

Could be down the street. In someone’s backyard, she peeked out the kitchen window. You’re never up this late, he said. Usually asleep. I come out here and drink alone. Want a shot? she shook her head. Placed her finger on her lips. Made the shhh sound.

I’m telling you, it’s kids playing with a gun.

That doesn’t scare you?

Nothing scares me, he laughed. Except you. You frighten me.

How so?

All these years. Still scared you’re going to leave me.

She wrapped her arms around him. I’m never going to do that, she told him. Never.

Guns shot off again.