The moon looked unusually thin tonight. From the ridge east of town, the whole valley was a black sheet with only a few distant lights trembling in it. I kept thinking there was something out there just beyond the mountains, not moving, only waiting to be noticed.

You can hear the land better at night. Fence wire hums. Dry grass drags itself against itself. The highway sounds far away, like it belongs to another place entirely. It feels correct to stay inland and let the rest of the world pass unnoticed.

I found an old notebook page folded into a library book. It only had three things written on it: moon phase, elevation, and the sentence 'some knowledge prefers distance.' I copied it here before I misplaced it.