“Raychel Sanner sets up her camera on the side of some dusty, wire fence-lined road and hustles back into her red Hyundai hatchback. A car is ambling down the road in our direction, and Jesse, Allie, and I stare back and forth between the approaching car and Raychel as a storm accumulates behind us, some 50 miles away. Later, as we watch the time lapse, we’ll be able to see how quickly the dark clouds rolled through the sky, nearly doubling in size—the result of two storms joining. 

The car gets closer and closer, kicking up rocks and dust as its license plate becomes visible. I look at Raychel’s face, which is seemingly stoic but likely a little anxious, as it stands in stark contrast to the excited smile that was on it just moments before. I consider taking the license plate number down in my Notes app. I consider the storm behind us, and I wonder where I ought to direct my anxieties. The car approaches, and I am convinced the four of us hold our breath. I can make out the small chili peppers on the left side of the license plate and start to memorize the letters and numbers. But as quickly as the car came, it sped right by us—it didn’t notice our queer and trans bodies filming a coming storm just steps from someone else’s property line.”