Ethan:
The water in the pool is cold this morning. I dive in the same way. I need the rough feeling. The blow that awakens more than just thoughts.
I swim from one end to the other with long, controlled movements. It has always served me. When I can't order the head, I order the body.
But neither the rhythm nor the water can extinguish the image of Clara sitting in front of me saying:
"Your lack of limits."
I climb out of the pool and lean against the edge, breathing heavily. The sun begins to rise and the reflection on the water forces me to squint.
I wipe my face with a towel and pick up the phone I left on the table next to the lounger.
I dial my assistant.
"Good morning, sir," she replies immediately.
"I need you to buy a bouquet of red roses. Not something discreet. I want it
