Seven O'Clock, Saturday

An oxford, uneven hem, untucked. Wide pleated trousers. A merino crew knotted at the shoulders. Habit. Loafers on the floor. Bare feet. A small black satchel on the chair back, keys and not much else. The dachshund asleep on the rug. A patch of sun. A plain watch on the nightstand, a paperback. Eucalyptus on the towel he left. Steam off the plunge pool at seven.