Hank stood there holding Captain Pancake’s leash.
The dog sat beside me and fixed his eyes on the remaining half of my sandwich.
“Why is he here?”
“He needed lunch.”
“He ate breakfast.”
“He has completed breakfast.”
Rosa pointed toward the door.
“No dog.”
“He is emotionally vulnerable.”
“He has his own food.”
Captain Pancake rested his head on my knee.
I tore off a piece of egg.
Rosa slapped my hand.
“He is manipulating you.”
“He missed me.”
“He met Savannah twice and missed her too.”
I looked up.
Rosa returned my stare.
Hank studied the menu with sudden concentration.
“I’m going back to work.”
“You haven’t finished.”
“I’ve lost my appetite due to coordinated interference.”
Rosa wrapped the sandwich in paper.
“Eat on boat.”
She handed it to me.
Balance.
The afternoon dive was uncomplicated.
The nervous husband used air too quickly during the first ten minutes, then remembered how to breathe.
His wife found a spotted eagle ray and signaled so enthusiastically she nearly dislodged her mask.
We stayed at forty feet, moving above the reef while sunlight shifted across the sand.
