Ghostlike - Tim Bowness

It’s evening

She’s swimming in the hotel pool

He’s watching

She’s floating

Her face beneath the waterline

She’s crying

On the surface of the water

Steam rises

She is floating, steam is rising

She is ghostlike

He’s standing

He’s leaning on the balcony

Still watching

Teeth clenching

He’s wincing at the memory

Unspoken

In the silence, in the moment

Time moves slowly

She is floating, steam is rising

She is ghostlike

The night air is cooling

He’s walking away