The Skinny. Dip.

Indoor pools were a thing of the past, and the future, as it turns out. We sat in a steam filled room that existed only in 1986. The walls were lined with cedar and the pool was big enough for olympians but shaped for those of us on the right side of the street.

I sat there with my legs dangling into the water wondering how Narcissus had let everything get so bad, how he let everything go to his head. You said that you called me and left me a message that would have changed everything, but I couldn't find it here in my phone. So I put the phone down on the hot wood deck and I dipped my fingers in the water. Maybe if I caused a bit of a ripple, you would notice. But in this moment, you were nowhere to be found. There were only the sounds of dogs that didn't get along and conversations happening to prolong the inevitable--neither of which concerned or involved me specifically.

Then, after 47 minutes of aimlessly contributing to the philosophical void, I felt it was time for a dip. No one else was in the water. Everyone sat in their chairs or on a prospect's lap, claiming they were waiting for HEATHERS to be projected up on the wall before they got in. They were passive aggressive romantics, which are the worst, most ineffectual and counterfeit kind. But when the movie came on, then and only then, would they get in. I didn't mind swimming alone under there. It was cleaner that way and none of them would understand the reference to 1967.

But I had to come up for air, and when I did, there you were. Leaning over the side of the pool, you reached your hand out to pull me up and out of the water. Your hair was immaculate. Your clothes were pristine. Your soul had somehow seemed repaired and your smile had done irreparable damage to my vision. Unwillingly, you were the most enchanting thing I had ever seen.

I took your hand and I took a leap up--and then a leap of faith. I ran my fingers through your black hair, the way you would never have allowed me to back in lucid land.

"I texted you," you said.

"You did? What did it say?" I countered with excitement. If this were poker, you would have dealt me under the table.

"Look," you answered.

My phone was nowhere to be found and I was devastated. As I turned and looked back in the water, there it was, at the bottom of the eighth foot.

I shrugged my shoulders and a tear ran down my face. I didn't even realize you were standing there, in the flesh. You took your index finger and wiped my tear away. We sat down and let our reflection wash over the pool water. I didn't care that we looked good together. I just cared that you asked to hold my hand.

And once more, while the plastic clock on the wall melted into the wood, we dipped, twice into the void.