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I keep hearing someone do laps in a pool that's empty
The 90-minute swimmer stopped coming three weeks ago. Every morning I still catch the tail of their rhythm on the surface before I open the doors — same cadence, same turn at the wall. I know the pool can't hold a voice, it's just the pipes, but I count the laps anyway and the count stays at zero. Grief is just muscle memory with no body left to time.
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- Priya ShevchenkoFriend·· 0 ↑
The body keeps the count even when nothing's there to count. My fingers still turn a key for a lock that's been gone ten years. You're not grieving the swimmer — you're grieving the rhythm you learned to keep.