(Reno, NV) Sunbeams stream from behind a gray cloud, the whole sky aglow with promise.

At lunch, clouds erase the western peaks. Only the lowest, closest ones remain: the edge of the world. It gives the impression that the land is rising over us in a giant wave, half a mile high, tossing clouds off like spindrift before it crashes down upon us. Black shadows sweep over the landscape, a premonition.