Friday evening. 6:50 p.m. 37 degrees. On 17K. Passing the airport. Fog. The red and blue runway lights refracted, vivid in color as gemstones. No other colors but black and gray and the ghastly yellow of far off halogens left in the world. Three Canada geese come out of there and fly across the road, looking as they do in flight as they are pulling themselves along by their necks. Black as bats.