Diving under the neon TripTank sign buzzing and flickering alone in the night I came into the shop from off the steadily disintegrating side street. With a nod I paid two weeks wages to the fat guy on the counter smoking illegal cigarettes in his unwashed vest. I walked on into the locker room behind. No troubles. No drama. Deep in the tank I could be everywhere, everywhere but here.
Words: Sam Mee, Published: 21 July 2016