Chlorine and Citrus

The swimming pool at the Ramada Inn had seen better decades. Its blue tiles were cracked, the water murkier than Lena remembered from last summer. But she kept coming back, every Tuesday at 3 PM, because Marcus had loved the water. Had loved her in it, once.

She adjusted the orange strap of her swimsuit, the neon color screaming against the muted hotel carpet. The lobby clerk barely looked up from his phone.

"Room 217," he said, like he always did.

She wasn't staying. She never stayed.

The pool area was empty save for an elderly dog—a golden retriever, hips creaking—lying on a faded towel near the shallow end. Its owner, a woman in her seventies, was doing slow laps, her silver hair plastering to her skull like a second skin.

Lena slid into the water. It was colder than she expected, shocking her skin, making her gasp. Marcus had always laughed at her reaction to cold water. Called it adorable. That was before the promotion, before the downtown apartment, before the assistant with legs that went on forever and laughed at everything he said.

She began to swim, her strokes mechanical. She wasn't here for exercise. She was here because this was where he'd ended it—four months ago, standing poolside in his suit, telling her he'd met someone. Someone who didn't work at a grocery store. Someone whose father wasn't doing time for armed robbery.

The old woman climbed out of the pool, dripping and satisfied. The dog lifted its head, thumped its tail against the concrete.

"Good boy, Barnaby," the woman said, toweling off. She glanced at Lena. "You alright, hon? You look like you're drowning."

Lena tread water. "I'm fine."

"The water won't bring him back," the woman said softly. "Whatever you're waiting for."

She left, the dog clicking behind her.

Lena swam to the edge and rested her forehead against the rough concrete. The chlorine burned her eyes, but she didn't close them. Through the blur, she watched an orange leaf drift from a potted plant onto the water's surface. It spun slowly, caught in a gentle current she hadn't noticed before.

Marcus wasn't coming back. The water wouldn't change that. But maybe, just maybe, she could finally stop swimming in circles.