The smell of tangy cheese, rosemary, and cooked pumpkin wafted through the lighthouse. Evening blanketed Casper, deepened by rain and blustery wind. Water streaked the window, and black reigned past the sharp cliffside, blotting out the gibbous moon and the many, many stars. Ethan hated being stuck in weather like this, but he loved the atmosphere. The mood. He lit wicks stacked inside an iron candelabra in the center of the dining table. Tested the gourd in the oven with a fork. Lowered the needle on their ivy-green record player and hummed along to Bon Iver.
