They laid in bed with blankets over them in darkness. She stared up at the ceiling. So did he. Cars drove by. Loud music played. A muffler dragged on the pavement.  They didn’t move.

He looked over at the alarm clock. Three in the morning, rolled over on his side and looked at his wife. He couldn’t make her out but heard her breathing. The husband rolled over onto his back and stared up again. Coyotes howled.

She faced him and placed her head on his chest, pretending to be asleep. Grabbed his arm and held tightly. He closed his eyes.

Go to sleep, he said. Shhh. The sun will be up in an hour, he told her. We’ll talk then.