Blue Pool Tile

I have to get out of the pool but I can’t stop staring at the blue pool tiles. They remind me of the stained glass videos trending on Insta-I wonder if I could make stained glass. Too bad I have the attention span of a walnut.

I run my fingers along the crooked edges of the tiles, reveling in the texture of the cement in between the cracks. I heard that feeling texture is a good grounding mechanism during sensory overload, but it’s probably just placebo.

The older man next to me in the pool keeps looking over, I wonder what he thinks of the girl running her hand over the tiles. He should try it, it’s satisfying.

Having enough of the tiles, I step out of the pool and find my chair, all-too-aware of myself in the world as I try to dry off and get dressed quickly. My feet are squishing in my sandals, and I smile at the noise.

My finger autonomically presses the silver button of the elevator, and my eyes focus on finding that up arrow. Being a human being is so tiring; tasks like just simply waiting for the elevator take so much time. Maybe that’s dramatic, but it takes SOME time out of being alive.

The elevator dings and I step in, looking at my tired eyes through the wall of mirrors.

Who is this girl?