He sees her from afar. How strange to see her from outside of things. The flaws that he could not ignore are, from this distance, vanished. She is beautiful, a woman of about thirty, her life beginning its long wind down. She is with friends. Her hair has grown out. The skirt hugs her hips, the curve of her bottom. Her skin looks healthy in the sun and she moves easily, without conscience, as if no one in the world might be watching her.

Down the hill, two dogs are playing in a lot of bare earth. Big, shaggy, mangy dogs, golden retrievers or maybe golden labs, it’s impossible to tell their coats are so mottled with dirt and viscera. They pounce at one another, teeth bared, barking in pleasure, rolling together in the earth. Above him, he hears the beat of gull wings, the heavy sound that is like thick paper being slowly ripped. He looks, but cannot find it.