"Hey, so… you wanted to talk to me about something?"
Took ringing Dad a couple of times before I finally got somewhere. My initial assumption was that he was fast asleep before I came chiming. Which would be pretty audacious of him to insist I call before I go to bed only to wind up hitting the hay yourself the instant I do.
"Yes. Thanks for calling," Dad's voice blared from the other end. "I would have messaged instead, but I prefer to talk. Typing takes too long."
There was a commotion as he spoke, his voice fighting to space in the crammed, narrow space of my speaker grilles with the sound of multiple somethings making multiple landings onto something very wet. My original assumption quickly shifted.
"Are you at a pool?"
"We are," he affirmed. "The hotel we're in has one. Your mother wanted to go for a swim, so we're swimming."
"This late? Aren't hotels supposed to close their pools for the night?"
