Day 33: Freestyle

We learned to swim together at the community pool, the summer before first grade. I mostly remember the polka-dot suit I wore. It had ruffles, and I thought it was something a princess would wear.

We swam in high school together, too. It wasn’t about suits anymore; it was about split times, conditioning, and drives with our hair still wet, one hand on the wheel and the other hand in hers.

Now our swimming happens only in my dreams. We race strong, the time no matter. When she wins, I twist a lock of her wet hair around my finger.

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