We sit in twin lawn chairs beneath the full moon. A star shoots by. I point and he misses it. The star giggles. The moon chuckles. I pull my chair closer. “I once tried to swallow a star,” he says, “but it got caught in my throat.” When I give the moon a sideways glance, it only winks. I lean closer to him. He swallows. The star bobs in his throat. “Right here,” he says, pointing. I don’t miss it.