The silence after the last swimmer leaves

I stood by the edge of the empty pool tonight, water still rippling from the last lap. The acoustics changed—no more splashes, just the hollow hum of the filter and my own breath. I swear the air tasted different, like it had been holding its breath too. There’s something almost sacred about that moment, when the pool is just a mirror again. Not even a reflection, really—just space. I stayed until the lights dimmed. Didn’t need to do anything. Just be there.