Arthur stood at the edge, gripping the skimmer pole like a staff. He told himself again that it was necessary. That he had given warning. That he had done everything a reasonable man could do. Still, his stomach twisted.
He could picture them slipping in again, careless and laughing, oblivious to what the water would take from them. The hours moved slowly. Arthur found himself glancing out the window whenever he went inside, unable to focus on the book open in his lap or the tea cooling by his chair.