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So there I was: swimming peacefully in the pool late at night with no one else around.  I was determined to swim a mile and was about two-thirds towards that goal when the man appeared.

He looked to be as a normal man looks: about yay high with four limbs and I think there was possibly some hair.  He jumped into the pool and began doing laps.  I was mildly annoyed as the perfect peace of my swimming had been slightly disrupted, but I took it in stride and refocused back upon my own task.

It was about that moment, when all was beautiful and watery and there were dolphins singing in my mind, that the man chose to hock up a glob of mucus from his lungs and then spew it open the tiled floor beyond.  I watched as he did it again; the lights catching the glistening orb as it arced upward and then down.

He caught me staring and started to splash water up and out of the pool to encourage his mucous children to head towards the drain I knew was there.

I started swimming laps again and saw that he did the same.  “Pretend you are a kraken,” I thought to myself.  “Or maybe even a narwhal.”  This delusion lasted exactly one lap, because as soon as the man got to the end of the pool he started up on Round #2.

I was Determined to get my mile in, and desperately tried swimming in a more splashy manner.  Which was precisely the moment that the used Band-Aid chose to float past me.

And that is the story of how I didn’t swim a mile.

The End.

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