They had hiked in the dark specifically for this — to come over the ridge just as the sky began to lighten. Now they stood at the edge and the valley was below them in slow blue, mist in the low places, the far mountains catching the first pink. He stopped talking. His wife stopped talking. The kind of thing that makes you smaller, but in a good way — as though your own size had been too loud and now the world was doing the scale properly again. He reached for her hand and she reached for his at the same moment. Neither of them took out their phones.