Pool Nights

She was waiting for something to happen. You could see it in the way she swirled the water with her fingers, the way she leaned back on her hands, looking up at a sky that wasn’t going to give her any answers.

“My friends are asleep,” she said. “Jetlag.”

She wasn’t tired. Not even close.

I don’t know why I sat down beside her. Maybe because she looked like she belonged here, framed by palm trees and pool lights, the world turning gold and red as the sun made its slow retreat.

“I want to go dancing,” she said.

She didn’t ask if I wanted to come. That wasn’t the point. She was just putting the idea into the universe, like a match held to kindling, waiting to see if something would catch.

And it did.