“Take her out!” Jules was told. So he did. It was a nice clean shot too. But then his boss phoned to ask if his wife was having a good time.

From my rooftop, the village looks like a Vietnamese bay, littered with houseboats. I watch another neighbor disappear beneath the water.

He can steal honey out of a wild hive, wrestle ‘gators in the swamp, charm snakes and climb mountains but he can’t navigate a relationship.

Confronted by the sameness and change of it all, he sighed deeply. This was the lake upon which he once skimmed stones.

“I can’t do this,” Martha wiped away her tears. “I won’t cry for you, anymore.” She rolled his body into the river. “Never again.”

When we were finished, she tossed a handful of tissues toward me. But it was difficult to wipe away, the ink from her fingerprint kit.