What time is it? She asked. It’s gotta be after midnight. He nodded his head. Both were tired. Neither could sleep. They just stayed up most of the night, looking at each other and drinking whiskey.

When we were younger, she said. We’d stay up all night catching fireflies in a jar.

I remember that, he said. Kept them in Mason jars. They’d light our way home on the trail.

Yeah. Why did we stop doing that? She asked. When did we stop having fun?

Not sure exactly, he told her. Maybe when we stopped making love. That was a long time ago. She reached out for the bottle. Quiet between them.

I wasn’t the one who stopped, she laughed.

Blaming it on me? You’re wrong, dear. You are dead wrong. She passed the whiskey back to him. I used to curl up behind your back and wrap my arms around you. Used to kiss the back of your neck.

Right. I remember a few times you did that. Mostly, you just turned over and snored all night. Still do.

Yeah.

They looked outside through the window and watched as fireflies danced.