The lake water is calmer during off-season. No canoe paddles or angular bikini-clad swimmers’ arms slicing its surface to pieces. Mosquitoes that dart down, kissing algal growths before flying off for more blood, are all asleep.

He’s sleeping too.

Lifting a sleep-heavy eyelid, he watches a leaf drifting down from one of the surrounding trees. Winds are mild this time of year. That single leaf flails for a moment, then stops.

He could reach up and pull that leaf down below the water. He could crush it in his hands.

But he’ll wait until the camp reopens for the summer.