I lock my bedroom door the moment I enter. The click is louder than it needs to be, as if I just locked myself inside a vault.

My sneakers' damp soles leave faint tracks on the floor as I kick them off. I don’t even try to turn the light on. The curtains are still closed from the previous night and the room remains dim, chilly and comfortable.

I peel off the wet tank top and shorts, dumping them in a damp pile on the floor. As I walk by, the mirror catches my reflection. I’m flushed, my cheeks are rosy, the hair on my neck is soaked. Any sweat...