Joe approached the pools, the shriveled skin of his feet scratching at the concrete of the floors. He walked up to the edge of the pool and began to disrobe. He took off his apron, folded it neatly and placed it on the ledge. The same was done with the rest of his clothes. He slid into the water which immediately went tepid upon contact, little bits of frost forming on the moist stone around the water.
Joe swam to the center and when he got there rested a moment in a 'dead man's float'. He looked around in the water. He thought he saw something moving in the dark of the depths but it could have just have easily had been his imagination. He turned to float on his back.
"Kyrie, eleison," as the words escaped his lips he began to sink, the air in his lungs the only thing which kept his body buoyant.
"Christe, eleison," he sank deeper and deeper. Soon the light from above faded and concepts like "up" or "down" became meaningless in the sensory deprivation of the pools.
"Kyrie, eleison," as Joe finished, he bounced gently against the bottom of the pool. In the inky blackness of the depths, it was as if the world had ended and only he was left. Joe pondered whether or not that was a good thing as ice slowly began to envelope him.
