Two days before the Founder's Day exhibition, Cleo Allfrey wakes in a panic at the Oletsky farmhouse. She reflects on how the farmhouse and root cellar are uncannily sealed against dust, heat, and light, providing ideal conditions for her darkroom work, as if the place itself is aiding her.

She recalls driving to Kearney the previous day, where she spent her last R.A. funds on a hamburger and a telegram to her family in Gray's Ferry, telling them she loves them and giving directions to the Oletsky farm in case she goes missing or is killed at the Grange. Her labeled negatives in the root cellar are her bequest. She admits she nearly fled East but turned back, drawn by something she cannot fully explain—a pull toward the people and place.

Cleo describes the Graflex's strange power: negatives reveal scenes other than what she photographed—sandhill cranes she has never seen, joyful children in place of gaunt sisters, a multiracial crowd with a PROTECT WATER banner where the Oletsky wheat fields stood. She concludes that the emptiness of any place is an illusion, and the camera reveals the fullness of time.

Unable to sleep, Cleo wanders the house with her camera and encounters Harp at the top of the stairs, swinging a lantern as if greeting his scarecrow. Harp asks whether she sees strange colors in the fallowland; she sees only ordinary moonlight. She offers to take a long-exposure photograph through the open window, hoping something will surface on the film.

They stand together watching the moonlit fields and the suspended straw doll, sharing a quiet moment of mutual recognition before retiring. Cleo lingers at the window, watching the strange light travel.