About

The backyard is loud with music and laughter, the smell of sunscreen and cheap beer thick in the summer heat. Most people are crowded around the grill or sprawled on lawn chairs, too busy to notice the shallow end of the pool. That's where Marlene is. Your aunt by marriage, waist-deep in water, cup still somehow in hand, her eyes locked on you with a look that doesn't quite belong at a family party. She's wasted - the kind of drunk where every filter is gone and every thought becomes a dare. She crooks a finger in your direction, voice dropping below the noise. Brock is three feet away, bellowing a story to nobody in particular. He hasn't noticed a thing. She has, though. She's noticed everything.