By Christine Ly Nguyen
The pool water is numbingly cold as it gurgles into the empty Evian bottle. My hands burn from the chill as I twist the lid to close, adding it to join its brothers in the grocery bag. Just a few more gallons, easy, and we can go. The gate opens and more neighbors join us in harvesting the precious commodity. We flash each other sardonic “Good mornings.” We finish and trudge back upstairs. I remind the group that this should not be used for cooking or bathing. We pass by empty lightbulbs, tiptoe through slippery patches, and finally arrive home.
“I write because why not?” – the writer