The door closed in his face, but not before Arthur caught a glimpse of the wife in the hallway reflection—she was wearing a towel turban and a swimsuit under her robe. They were lying right to his face.
That night, the sound of muffled splashing echoed over the fence again. They hadn’t listened. In fact, his warning seemed to have emboldened them, turning his request for respect into a game.
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Arthur sat in the dark kitchen, watching the moonlight ripple on the water that no longer felt like his. The anger he felt was cold and sharp. If they wouldn’t respect his words, they would have to respect chemistry.
