Above the waves, beneath the scorching eye of summer, I watched them bathe in the babble of accursed acquaintances. Floating backwards, lounging on inflatable recliners, they blew hot air about their co-worker's dietary habits. But as they loosed their string bikini straps, I felt wrinkles of resentment fade from my face. They asked the time, I had no reply. I couldn't care less whose name they'd disgraced a minute past. Some ethics fade as easy as tan lines.