The day's soaking gloom and wet, heavy clouds retreat as a cold, autumn wind rushes in and sweeps the sky clean. Low, golden sun burns through the remnants of the storm at the horizon to our backs, bathing the buildings and street ahead in a honeyed light.
Katie, riding in the passenger seat of the van I'm driving home from the flea market where we sat in freezing twilight for the past eight hours, flips the visor down and squints out through the glare of the dirty windshield at the now luminous flow of traffic before announcing, "I didn't even bring my sunglasses."
"Why would you have?" I reply without looking over.
One year ago today: In Peace Park, Hiroshima
Two years ago today: Morning - Four (Noseblind)
Three years ago today: In Spite of Myself