A horn blares on the nightstand. Frain’s wife, standing beside the bed, hits the alarm to silence it.

Frain rolls over. Looks up through one eye. “You know what’s funny?”

“What’s that?”

He grins, half asleep. “Last night, in your sleep, you said you were going to drown me. Crazy, huh?”

“That was your imagination, dear,” she says.

“What was my imagination?”

“That I was sleeping. Now, put these trunks on.”