Slowly.
Clearly.
The license plate.
Company logo.
The chute extending over my property.
I held up my phone.
“And I have the entire thing recorded.”
For the first time, fear appeared in his face.
“Marlene…”
He looked toward his wife.
“Maybe we should stop.”
She spun toward him.
“No.”
“Marlene—”
“Finish it.”
Her voice was sharp.
“We already started. Finish it.”
The concrete kept pouring.
And I kept recording.
Eventually, there was nothing else I needed to say.
I went back inside.
“DADDY’S POOL.”
All four children were standing near the kitchen window.
Their faces were pale.
My youngest was crying.
My oldest looked at me.
“Mommy…”
Then toward the yard.
“Daddy’s pool.”
That nearly destroyed me.
I knelt.
All four came toward me at once.
Arms around my shoulders.
Faces pressed into my neck.
“Our pool is ruined,” my son whispered.
I closed my eyes.
