The Gravity of Water
by Eric Scot Tryon

“Come on, baby,” my wife Danielle says to me, “the water’s warm.” 

Marianne is behind her, frog-kicking to stay afloat while gripping Danielle’s shoulders and whispering in her ear. They nod, giggle, and splash together like school girls. Sitting on the edge of the pool, I watch Marianne take off her bikini top and hold it above her head, swinging it around like a lasso before throwing it onto the cement. Danielle yelps and dunks Marianne below the surface.