Today the sky looked capable of any enormity.
Helper and I went down to the bridge to look. We found nothing there.
“Well,” Helper said, after a while. “I’m sorry.”
But of course there was something there. Nothing is made deciduous but the thought of it.
“Sorry,” Helper said.
A big sound came through the air like a foghorn. I looked up and then I looked at Helper.
“Is something wrong?” Helper said.