But peace had been denied to him. Every polite word ignored, every plea brushed aside. He told himself again, firmer this time: “I’ve done what I could. If they don’t respect the warning, it’s on them.” Still, long after he should have gone inside, Arthur lingered by the patio.
He sat down in the chair where she used to dry her hair in the sun, staring at the restless water as the pump hummed. The smell of bleach hung heavy in the night air. At last, exhausted, he whispered goodnight to her memory and went inside, the echo of his own footsteps the only sound left in the house.