A July Evening on the Lake Michigan Shore

Lake Michigan, and a full deck of people above the beach — towels drying over the rail, wine glasses, a coffee mug, kids weaving between legs. Everybody lined up along the railing for a while before drifting down toward the sand for the main event.

The sun went down over the water in stages: a plain bright disk first, then buried in a band of cloud that turned the whole west end of the lake red and purple. One guy stood in the dune grass and held his palm out flat under it, balancing the sun like a plate. Closer to the waterline a man and a little girl stayed through all of it, working on what looked like a half-built sand pile. A speedboat crossed right as the sun touched the horizon, dragging its wake through the reflection.

The two of them were still down on the sand after the color had mostly gone, the water gone flat and gray-blue behind them.