“I bought you some poison blueberries,” she said. “You can have them with your corn flakes in the morning.” She had always been everything he’d ever wanted so all he heard was: “I bought you some blueberries for breakfast.” He ate them the next day with toast and orange marmalade and tea. He went to work and smiled at customers and colleagues, sat quietly at his desk until half-past five, signed out and, still smiling, headed home to his Sweetie Pie.
The first words heard on Monday, smack in the middle of August, drifted in, distant and disembodied from the dock of the smallest cabin across the lake. An ancient couple, no doubt celebrating their golden anniversary with a coffee and a mutual toast, love-talked so softly that only their voices’ tenderness and not the content of their speech travels across the still, wide water.