Three hundred and sixty degrees of darkness. The clopping of my heels against stone steps. I’m a corkscrew headed down.

We are getting warmer from late Fall to mid Spring. The first drop of sweat leaves my forehead and the loss overcomes me. I feel it all so strongly here without even a shadow to rest my eyes. That bead, I know its gravity. It pulls down quickly and lands on the furry creature clawing gently at my chest. Stubbly, he bristles in closer. He whimpers into a prickly dry cough. It’s water he needs.

With each revolution, the air grows heavier. Moisture erupts from my pores. The little gremlin grows brittle. I can see his grey eyes now — lashes batting like a strobe bulb. Warmer still, his incandescent lamps brighten. New features come to light: his patchy black fur and white fluffy mohawk. His sharp little teeth chatter and he clings tighter with skin that feels like live oak.

The more I see, the more I know. His gentle, sad eyes have transformed into flood lights. Green water. I step in and he loosens grip. The claws aid our swimming. We cut through the water like a tiny deft whale. I realize he is I. I am him and am rising out of the water: a dolphin in a show.

“We’ve wriggled from the drain, I mumble.” Silence and I’m not splashing, but walking. No wetness, only hydration and the adoration of hotel staff. I’m in a towel with the lobby tile under bare feet.

“Any mail, Julia?” I don’t know the words, but I speak them. Her smile affirms and I have stacks of paper under my arm. I thank her and I am welcome; the doors evaporate upon approach. Momentarily, I’ll have breakfast.