Clara hasn't always been alone. She is almost certain of that. She can't say that she remembers someone else exactly. Nothing is that concrete for Clara. But sometimes, when she lies on the edge of sleep she unintentionally brushes her hand against her cheek and the touch seems familiar in some inexplicable way. Someone touched her like that once. Gently, nonchalantly, as though to caress Clara was a routine and expected gesture repeated often throughout the course of a day.

Clara believes someone loved her once, a long time ago.

Besides, someone must have taken care of her as a baby. It just stands to reason.

Whoever they were, they left her before she was old enough to remember them properly and it has been Clara and only Clara ever since. She does not count the breathing people. They are different, set apart from her. They've always been oblivious to her, and her interest in them merely passes the time.

That was before the boy, Nolan, came along. Her fascination with Nolan is on a vastly different scale than anything she's experienced for other breathing people. Nolan interests her, and that interest began before she became visible to him. Nolan avoids speaking to everyone, if he can help it. He keeps himself wrapped up in a dark hoody in order to hide himself from the world. Nolan doesn't want anyone to notice him. He is a complete contrast from Clara.

And yet... how sad the boy is. He goes to great lengths to keep his emotions secret from the other hotel employees. They might start asking questions that Nolan isn't interested in answering.

He doesn't want it to, but the lack of attention from other breathers seems to make Nolan lonely. This is exactly how Clara feels. She wishes for his sake that they didn't share this in common. But as long as they do, she must admit that she is oddly comforted by it. She is lonely and he is lonely. Perhaps their loneliness can somehow cancel each other's out and become something else entirely.

Clara loves the pool. She loves the laughing children with their legs dangling over the edge. She loves how the water pushes out of her way when she dives under its surface—how it acknowledges that she is there. She loves how gracefully people swim around her and even through her, and it is the only time she doesn't mind that they are clueless that she's there. Most of all, though, she loves glimpsing the world through the serenity of water. The pool is a world unto itself. It's a place where her differences don't matter to her. It's where she goes to be at peace.

Clara isn't buoyant. She found this out when, as a little girl, she worked up the courage to jump into the pool for the very first time. She sank like a stone to its bottom. Instead of being alarmed, Clara was mesmerized. Everything shimmered. The blank outlines of the pool's concrete walls were clear and blurred all at the same time.

The pool is Clara's thinking spot. It is the one place where not requiring air seems fortunate. She sits submerged on the pool's bottom for hours, and nothing bad happens to her. Her fingertips don't even wrinkle the way the tourists' do when they linger too long in the water.

Today, Clara is in the deep-end thinking about the boy. What else could she turn her mind to after what happened? She thinks about his sad beautiful eyes and how they only seem to open half way. Except when he sees Clara. Then Nolan's eyes grow wide and round.

Sort of how they look right now.

Clara's own eyes open wide as she realizes that Nolan is staring at her in her thinking spot at the bottom of the pool. He swam down to find her. A rush of pleasure sends a shiver down her spine. He must want to see her again!

That moment of bliss ends when he kicks away in alarm, bubbles streaming from his mouth as he retreats.

Clara maneuvers over to the ladder and hoists herself up. If she was a normal person, the air would feel cool when she breaks the surface and steps out of the pool. Her skin would crawl with goose bumps and her lips would tinge purple.

The air is warm, her skin smooth. The temperature is much more pleasant than her state of mind. She grabs a towel and sops the water off of her arms and legs. Her dark hair drips down the back of her neck.

Nolan is leaving the pool yard as fast as he can. His soaked t-shirt and jeans cling to him and his shoes make a sloshing sound as he steps.

The visitors watch him with distaste. They have no idea what would possess this boy to dive into an empty pool fully clothed. They have no idea about Clara.

Clara watches Nolan go. She has caused him grief yet again. She didn't even have to try. All she had to do was exist.