Toilet seat up. Murmuring voices. Heavy steps and softer ones in the morning. Then turning of the lock. Three of us instead of two this last night.

I need to study, I need to rest, I need to be warm. My thoughts leave easily the equations on the printed page. It seems more effort is placed on keeping my mind there in that book than actually working through the numbers, the Greek letters, the words giving them meaning.

So cold today. This house so cold. The Falcon's heater doesn't work and last night, riding home at such late hour, the chill sliced to the bone and I've been unable to recover since. This afternoon I sought warmth in the hot tub at the gym. I watched the sunset from the bath on the 14th floor. The King County Jail shone pink and purple in response to the departing sun and I watched until the purple went to grey and the grey to a navy blue. Navy blue against the white lights of the Smith Tower there.

Ohhh, too hot too soon and I wanted to stay for long, such a long relaxing time. I had a magazine and my headphones with which to pass time. I read until the pages dampened then threw it away; I listened, letting the cord dip into the water. Lap swimmers came dry and left dripping while I remained immersed. Eventually sweat began to trickle from my temples so I pulled myself up out of there, walked over to the kickboard bin, picking two, and then eased myself into the relative chill of the pool.

I could only kick with my head above the surface, lacking goggles and cap. Breaststroke is my favorite, frogging it down the lane in silence, pushing cyan ruffles that roll away from me. Peaking just at the rim of the wall, each one sheds a part of itself into the gutter. I pulled the kickboard under my chest, my breasts sore and swollen in this phase of the moon protesting the decision. But I like it this way, with my arms over the sides, curling back up to grab the front, hands together and palms up. In this way, I can rest my chin on the tip of the board, the water level at my lips. I like the tickle of it there, moving up and down slightly with the push and slack of the whip.

Laps uncounted, just enjoyed without pressure. Swimmer I am and have always been: being in the water is first-nature to me. I thought after awhile that I should go, so I put away the board and slipped back into the smaller pool of concentrated heat until I was warmed through and through. I wanted to leave the building with the steam still rising from my skin.