It is the far end of twilight and I struggle to see where I am in the heavy blue shadowy. The tide, coming in. Most of the beach has been swallowed already. The air, chill and damp. My things are scattered all over—a balled-up towel and a half-buried handbag, its contents strewn about. Poking up out of mounded sand, the top left corner of my driver’s license. When I pick it up I am relieved to find it intact; its face looking blankly into the blank between us. Other possessions have suffered various sorts of violations: ripped, cracked, broken into pieces. I am dispersed. A raven, I think. A comforting thought compared to the other things I think. The surf is approaching fast and rough at my back. Dark. Where are my sandals? The wind gusts, pushing me through the stinging cold gritty toward a thick of trees ahead, the sky, heavy, I suddenly remember the warm, clear, calm day that I dozed off in. Careless of me to forget how quickly the weather can change.