Chapter Text
In the morning he has the pool to himself. He wakes up earlier than most, but still pays to have it reserved. Just a small insurance measure to maintain the peace of his morning. He runs his laps.
He emerges from his final run, chest heaving, and pulls himself up to sit on the edge to recover. He leaves one leg in the water, pulls up his goggles, rips off his cap. He sits with the feeling of fire in his lungs and blood in his limbs, sustained in this moment of halted inertia. It’s a beautiful thing, what the body can do. It keeps him alive, he keeps it running smoothly. Together they form a life. His breathing slows, his heart settles from its vibrating endorphins. The pool is still empty, the sun still barely scratching the surface of the Earth. At least from where he sits.
He likes being here. He keeps his leg in the water, sitting on the edge. His breathing now even, he waits patiently for the waves and ripples to settle around him. He stays focused entirely on the movement of the water; primal, basic, enthralling. Finally it settles. He lets it sit like glass, find accomplishment in his own stillness. He takes a deep breath and kicks his leg again, sending ripples ricocheting across the expanse, and takes that as his note to continue on with his day. Lots to do.
He scurries through his locker room routine. Same locker as always, same location of luxury towels and thoughtfully sourced soap. He uses the same shower as he always does. Howard understands his place in the world. He understands that he doesn’t have to like it all of the time, but that his life, just like all others, comes with a responsibility. He was born with a sense of duty. His cross to bear.
It's not so bad. He knows. Most days he wakes up rested, drinks a full glass of water like his trainer once told him to, and molts into a respected and tailor made man at the pull of his tie. In the mirror he thinks; he may have been born into a suit, but he could be the tailor of his life. Make it suit him. Make it fit just right.
~
At the end of the day he peels off his cufflinks, his jacket, his tie. He slides back to whatever organic state that he is, that he lives in, on his own. Him. Him. His wife once said, Even when you’re naked it’s like you’re still wearing a suit, and he laughed and she laughed and he’s thought about it every day since. What would it take for him to be naked? Is there something he’s missing? He doesn’t even know. He sits quietly at the end of his bed, waiting for the intermediary noise to settle, letting go of the lingering internal edits to lines of persuasion, arguments to make, calls that tomorrow holds. He sits in the silence, like his guru once told him to do. He hears the faint sounds of movement elsewhere in the home, far away. A door closing, a clanging. it has so much space to fill that it echoes. Howard moves then, entering back into the world, fills his room with the soft sounds of the duvet being pulled back, his body between the sheets, the pillow gently falling behind his head, rustling as he settles in. He rests there surrounded by his tailor made comfort, and the responsibility to endure it.