“It’s too hot out!” Peter moaned beside me. I turned my head to look at him, cracking my neck in the process. As I rubbed it, I narrowed my eyes at him. We were out on our building’s terrace.

“Mona! Don’t look at me like that!” I rolled my eyes, and then he kicked me in the leg. “Sorry,” he said, grinning.

That did it! I got up, but paused for a moment. Ahead of me was the beautiful panorama of Manhattan, but unusually dark. I can recall when Peter and I got home from camp, that none of the stop lights were working, and that everyone actually used the stop sign that day. In Peter’s opinion, it was “like civilized people all over again.”

“Are you having a fantasy moment?” I blinked, then realized that Peter was talking to me.

“No,” I said, still looking ahead, now gazing at the Empire State Building. “I just think it’s, uh, cool to finally have no lights to see.”

Peter snorted, “Mona, we should go downstairs. I bet your head is too far up in the clouds.”

“You know what? They just might be.”