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Moments before I met Calvin, the wind picked up from the northwest, and with it, sand and salt.

"Did you catch anything today?"

"No, not yet. Just this weather. The clouds ran right over us, no rain."

Behind Calvin, the sky darkened to battleship gray before going copper near the horizon, and green farther out to sea.

No sooner did I take his photo, the sky began taking numbers.

"Stay dry, and don't forget to send me the photo..."

Tomorrow, I go to the post office. Soon enough, tomorrow cranes into memory.

In the Contact Lens, Part 3 photo essay.