it is one of those moments when you get excited about one thing more than anyone closest to you would. night has just fallen and automobiles light up like fireflies, ferociously looking for enemies and friends at the same time on the city’s roads. you are looking out from inside one of the fireflies’s cold belly, thinking of one of the best books you have recently read. your husband and one of your dear friends would love the protagonist’s mother because she likes wallace stevens and transcendental poetry that do not incorporate the narcissistic pronoun “I”. and then you get distracted by the tender and alluring smell of freshly made pancakes you just bought.