"Ocean City" Part 2

With my head on the pillow, I can build castles in the sky. Anxiety disappears and my mind wanders, undisturbed. I wonder how long I can stay this way: between worlds, drifting in and out of consciousness.
Outside, the lights are still blinking from the Christmas light show. It makes me feel alive because here in this room, everything is dull. The room is decorated in such lifeless colors that I feel like I am stuck in a classroom where the professor is talking in drab monotones.
The pool is located in what looks like a former greenhouse. The sliding glass door across the front is partway open and covered in steam. Through it I can see the blinking headlights of cars outside as they make their way through the festival of lights set up for the residents in winter. I wonder what kind of person would live in Ocean City in the wintertime. Bustling in the summer, the town is nearly dead in the winter.
Although there is no definite reason to be afraid, standing alone on the cool concrete on the pool deck, I have an apprehensive feeling like when you know that something potentially ominous could happen. Of course I know that it would be easy for someone to come through that sliding glass door.
So then getting into the pool I make up my mind that I will get in quickly. I won’t prolong it like I normally do. The water is warm, and I realize this with some surprise. I wonder why this should come as a surprise, since I had felt the water before and already knew that it was warm. Maybe it’s because I hadn’t realized how much warmer the water is compared to the air. So then I think how getting in should be no problem. I submerge myself, and then I suddenly feel that sense of satisfaction that comes from reaching some personal goal.
Once in the water, I swim laps back and forth. The pool is small in diameter, making me have to turn around frequently. It feels nice, and in its pleasure, my fear that an intruder may come to hurt me is sort of on hold. It is there, but somehow not urgent enough to compel me to find safety. I tell myself, just a few more, and then I need to get out and get out of here. I go through in my head how I will take one towel from the supply provided in a basket on the pool deck to dry myself. But I will also need another one since those towels are so small. I think how I will do it very fast. I will not go slow because the air will feel so cold. It will be like ripping off a band-aid.
In winter in Ocean City, the boardwalk is a pleasant place. Mostly empty of people, one can enjoy the broad expanse of its wooden path and an uninterrupted view of the ocean. The air is chilly, but the slight coolness adds to the atmosphere. Here a certain weight—perhaps the cares of day to day life—is lifted. It’s almost as if, in the dark blue mass of the ocean, a new breath of life is found.
The comforting thing about the ocean is that it never changes. The waves will come in and out, guided by the steady hand of time.