Grit and Grits
The day started with a dark room and a small flashing dot. The angry red light reminded Lee of everything he was trying to forget. He stared at it from across the room, safe under his covers, and wished it away.
"One new voicemail," the machine echoed. Though the phone's volume was low, the message seemed oppressively loud in the silence that had gripped the room for days. Lee was too smart to pretend it did not exist yet pretended all the same as he dragged himself from bed and slipped into his swim suit. He heated and spiced a bowl of instant grits, an American staple he had learned to love in college, but passed on coffee; he did not need caffeine to wake him, the pool would do that. Lee collected his belongings into a waterproof bag after noting the rain outside his window, but did not bother to don a jacket. He was immune to the cold and liked the feeling of rain on his skin. It reminded him of home.
As he walked to the pool, Lee took in his city in the watery morning light. His building, the Maitland, was imposing on the otherwise unremarkable street. The early morning risers walking with their umbrellas eyed him curiously but he did not notice.
A piercing scream shook Lee from his thoughts and he glanced up at the Maitland parking deck, searching for it's source. He caught a glimpse of a blue van driving down the deck, but nothing else moved. He shook his head to rid it of the morbid possibilities for the scream that his imagination conjured. It was probably just a tire screech, he told himself, and though a part of him itched to investigate, he continued on.
Lee was glad but not surprised to find the pool empty when he arrived. He stood before the water like he had a million times before. He could not get in. He stared and stared at the shifting blue but he could not force his legs to move. A longing built in his chest but it was hindered by an aching loss. He was shocked to find that he did not want to enter the water, he felt it was something from a past life, it was not his anymore. It may have been five minutes or twenty but sometime later he left the pool, hair wet only from the rain.
"One new voicemail," the machine echoed. Though the phone's volume was low, the message seemed oppressively loud in the silence that had gripped the room for days. Lee was too smart to pretend it did not exist yet pretended all the same as he dragged himself from bed and slipped into his swim suit. He heated and spiced a bowl of instant grits, an American staple he had learned to love in college, but passed on coffee; he did not need caffeine to wake him, the pool would do that. Lee collected his belongings into a waterproof bag after noting the rain outside his window, but did not bother to don a jacket. He was immune to the cold and liked the feeling of rain on his skin. It reminded him of home.
As he walked to the pool, Lee took in his city in the watery morning light. His building, the Maitland, was imposing on the otherwise unremarkable street. The early morning risers walking with their umbrellas eyed him curiously but he did not notice.
A piercing scream shook Lee from his thoughts and he glanced up at the Maitland parking deck, searching for it's source. He caught a glimpse of a blue van driving down the deck, but nothing else moved. He shook his head to rid it of the morbid possibilities for the scream that his imagination conjured. It was probably just a tire screech, he told himself, and though a part of him itched to investigate, he continued on.
Lee was glad but not surprised to find the pool empty when he arrived. He stood before the water like he had a million times before. He could not get in. He stared and stared at the shifting blue but he could not force his legs to move. A longing built in his chest but it was hindered by an aching loss. He was shocked to find that he did not want to enter the water, he felt it was something from a past life, it was not his anymore. It may have been five minutes or twenty but sometime later he left the pool, hair wet only from the rain.
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