(The man has leaped to his feet in a sudden fury. His outburst is so violent it causes the entire aluminum finger dock to tremble and sway beneath them. He has to grab hold of one of the upright pipes to steady himself. The woman just sits there, staring at the loon again, deeply satisfied that she’s caused such an avalanche inside him. On the hill behind them the screen door of the cabin opens and slams with a resounding bang that sends the loon down deep. The couple turn in unison toward the sound to see their nine-year-old son emerge with a bowl of cereal, squinting his eyes against the sun. The woman waves to the boy. The man doesn’t. The boy waves back to his mother and drops the bowl of cereal on the stone path. The bowl shatters. Milk splatters. The spoon clatters. The boy runs back inside. After a while, the woman speaks.)

I’d better go up.

No, wait.

(The man sits back down in his orange lawn chair. His knees are weak. His hands are trembling. He feels as though he’s done some serious damage to his nervous system. He feels something akin to shame but doesn’t want to call it that. He was simply trying to tell a story. He realizes he’s been had. The screen door opens and slams again on the hill behind them. They both turn toward the sound and simultaneously have the same impression that they’ve grown much older. Their necks are stiffer. Their torsos turn in short, jerky increments rather than with the fluid grace they used to know. This impression widens to memories of skinny-dipping in this very same lake when they couldn’t keep their hands off each other and their bodies were sleek and shining like the young otters that shared the water with them. The man turns toward the woman and sees her neck; her crossed legs peeking through the yellow bathrobe; her beauty still shining. He reaches out and touches her knee. She makes a soft little sigh and places her hand lightly on his. “She’s forgiven me,” he thinks. But the woman’s soft brown eyes are fixed on their daughter up at the cabin. The woman waves and calls out to her and as she does this the man feels a wave of jealousy that cuts across his chest like an electric jolt.)

Hi sugar!

(The daughter waves back. She looks disoriented by the sunlight shimmering off the water. She crosses her arms on her chest as though she’s caught a sudden chill, steps over the broken cereal bowl, and heads down the stone path toward her parents. The man withdraws his hand from his wife’s knee.)

She’s a sleepy girl.

Skinny.

Yes. Very tall and skinny.