Golden Hour in the Greater Phoenix Metropolitan Area

wc: 98

2024

You’ve nosed to the edge of the grocery parking lot but an arterial flow rebuffs you, leaving you to inhabit the sidewalk.

A man approaches driver’s side, limping, a half-zipped jacket fallen off one shoulder. His stubble has grown thick, pant leg ripped. He pushes a small stroller.

A chihuahua sits, prim and stoic, awash in golden light. You yield, roll back. They pass before you. The near distance occupies the dog’s gaze but not the man’s, who finds yours through the window and nods, mouths his thanks. You nod back, wish him luck, hope it means something.