“You know the date.”

“I know the date because I wrote it down.” My father looked out at the water. “I keep a log, Sam. Twenty-one years of it. It’s a habit. And in April of 2017 I wrote — I can tell you the words — S.

seems flat. Long sleeves in Florida in April. Ask again next call.”

That was two and a half years before the storm.

“Did you ask again?”

“I did. Next call. And you said everything was fine and you laughed at me for worrying, and you were bright about it, and you asked about the ship.” He put his hands in his pockets.