Crimson Sunset Waterfront Towers Countdown Timer

I have never seen a sky do that. Not once. This was Vancouver on one of those rare evenings when the atmosphere forgets to be polite and simply goes for it, bands of magenta and violet stacked over the towers like someone dragged a palette knife across the horizon. The water took all of it and handed it back, doubled and wobbling in the wind. Condo windows lit up one by one, gold against all that red, and a construction crane stood off to the left like a thin pencil somebody forgot to put away. I was on the far shore with my shoes in my hand because I had walked through wet grass to get the angle, and I remember thinking, this will be gone in four minutes, so do not blink. That is the cruel arithmetic of sunsets. They are the most generous thing the sky does and they never last. If you are ever somewhere with a view and the light starts turning strange, drop whatever you are holding. The dishes can wait. The emails can wait. Ten minutes later it was grey and ordinary. I have the picture. That is the trade. The sky will not.