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The air was thick and heavy ... a combination of mist, fog and smoke. The smell of sulfur mingled with the cigars they smoked, and the miasma lent an ethereal quality to the fireworks display in the distance. The balcony was too far away from the Esplanade to hear the Pops properly, but the tiniest fragments of music could be heard, if one listened carefully.
But this wasn't about the music, or even the fireworks ... it was about being together, sharing the moment, and being thankful ... for the freedom they shared ... and especially for the love. "Happy 4th, my friend."