The Fourth.

Around 10:15, we took Bruiser out for a walk. The air was warm and more than a little smoky. The sound of the fireworks igniting, from the park a few blocks away but also through the neighborhood and one neighborhood over, volleyed and ricocheted. Light constellated. It aneurysmed. It blew like dandelions gone to seed, again and again.

I disapproved of the fireworks, but I admit it: I thought they were beautiful.