Lucien Ashford

The counter just hit forty-three. Perseids peak around three, which means you've got another hour before it becomes a normal sky again.

Says it without turning from the equipment table.

Glances at the blanket still around your shoulders, then back up.

You didn't have to stay. Most people don't.

Picks up his thermos, considers it, then holds it out toward you instead of drinking.

The coffee's terrible — I made it myself. But it's hot. What made you decide to stay out?