She sets down her pool toys as if they’re made of glass.  The pull buoy is covered in bite marks.  Her son had used it as a teether, and she’d never bothered to replace it.  The bite marks make her smile every time she sees them.  The pool deck feels rough against the bottom of her feet.  The gym staff never quite cares for the pool the way she would care for it if it were her own.  Debris litters the pool deck.  Dust.  A black spider scrambles away from her when she moves toward her lane.  She is the only one here at 5 a.m.  She likes it this way.  It’s a solitary endeavor.  Quiet and peaceful.

She finds it hard to take that initial plunge into the cold water.  Will it be too warm or too cold today?  Her toes curl around the edge of the pool.  She…