The rain held off just long enough.

At Camp Ellis, the marina was still waking. Two fishermen stood on the dock beside their boat, ready to head out while the harbor was quiet. The sky was dark with rain, but the morning had found a way through.

A faint rainbow appeared beyond the boats, almost lost in the weather.

The sun was rising somewhere behind the clouds and behind us, putting just enough light on the water to separate the day from the night.

They would go fishing. The rain would come when it came.

For a few minutes, Maine gave them—and me—a break