I pull the drawstrings on my swim bag and lay it on the wet bleachers. I walk gingerly across the hot deck and dip my left toe to check the temperature. My girlfriend dives in splashing my ankles and waves me over. I plunge in like a teabag and swallow a tablespoon of chlorinated water as athletic bodies on either side of me perform underwater somersaults to launch themselves off the wall. Towering over us are taut teenage lifeguards wearing bright red jackets. The shiny whistles around their necks occasionally pierce the pop hits playing in surround sound.
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