I swim lanes two or three nights a week and, ever so often, I catch a tiny piece of conversation while I’m up for air or taking a break, gasping and clutching my stomach at the end of the pool (!). It might be a swimming coach yelling advice, parents talking on the sidelines or two aqua joggers chatting as they bob along. Of course, I have a pretty vivid imagination, but this is what I thought I heard tonight.
“…you know, you just want to be held …”
“…Tony really seemed to like my face like this …”
“Hey Fabio, any news?”
“I’m a father!”
Yes, the swimming instructor is called Fabio.