Maria drank two margaritas, but Jake stuck with Diet Coke. Walking up the steep driveway to their suite in the settling darkness, Jake pointed at the mop handle on the ground. “Someone took the snake.” “Why didn’t they take the mop handle, too? Isn’t it covered with guts or whatever snakes have inside them?” Jake leaned forward. “I can’t tell in the dark.” But the handle appeared clean to him. Maria looked around. Tree frogs chirped in the woods around them. She rubbed her arms. “Come on. Let’s go inside.” Jake unlocked the door and turned on the lights. They had left the air-conditioning on and he lowered its output. Then he went into Maria’s room and peeked under her bed and inside her closet. “No ghost snakes,” he said when he reentered the living room, but Maria had disappeared. Feeling a breeze coming from his room, he realized she had opened the glass door and stood smoking a cigarette on the patio, the full moon reflecting silver blades on the ocean’s surface.
