He has a basement level in his house. I've only been there once and when I close my eyes I can still see it. There's a perfectly rectangular pool, empty, and a soft dense green glow flows from it like it's seeking warmth in the farthest and darkest corners of the room. The tiles are a drab soft pink, not that I could see them very well in the lighting and they felt cold under my feet even though I wore socks.
There was a primal need deep in my chest, past my ribs and embedded in the pulsing flesh caged beneath to go into the pool. There were no stairs leading in, nor a ladder, but I still felt the need to hoist my weight into it and just sit at the bottom. If there was water in it, that wouldn't have changed the fact.
I wake in a cold sweat, my hands shooting out to my sides to grasp the sheets and blankets at my sides. Instead the pads of my fingers scrape at the rough bottom of a pool floor. Slowly I sit up, gasping for air in great heaving breaths that moved my chest in an almost forced looking way. The heavy green glow weighed me down, and looking over the side of the pool, I saw his silhouette.
