A Smile

What is he thinking, sitting beside the pool, looking at his hands, his hair bowl-cut like George's, but dark? George, not much older, liked to put on makeup and a dress and floozy around to records for his friend. The canvas roof leaks a little in the rain. Drops fall at intervals from the edge of the light high overhead. He catches them in his hands. He looks up, sees them fall, catches them in his hands, permits himself a smile.