The wife scoffed, folding her arms. “You’re imagining things. People walk through here all the time. Maybe it was kids. Don’t come over here blaming us just because you can’t take care of your pool.”
Arthur’s jaw tightened. He stood there, bottle dripping in his hand, words caught between anger and exhaustion. He thought of his wife, of the water she had loved, and how each careless denial felt like another crack in her memory.