Mourning

I watch the swimmers at the Olympics, and I remember what the pool smelled like, chlorine and sweat. I remember slipping through the water, pulling my body clean and swift through the water, my skin tight and my body loose.

I remember winning, the tiny sliver of embarrassment when they took losing hard, the raging exultation of crushing my opponent, my personal best. 

Tonight, I remember getting a piece cut out of me and I miss it, I miss that person, and I mourn him, a little, even though he had to die sometime - I just didn’t expect to still be alive afterward.