As the last glow of blue light fades from the edge of the sky, you emerge from the park. Although your swim was reinvigorating, the toll of your long hike is finally wearing you down. You make your way back to your apartment with what little energy you have left. Your roommate, Clay, is watching television and eating what's left of last night's pizza.
He asks you where you've been, then takes a look at you and asks if it's raining out. You regard your damp clothes and tell him about the park you found, and the lake.
"Funny," he says, "I don't remember there being a park there either. If it's as big as you say it is, wouldn't we have noticed it before?"
You're too tired to argue, and you want to get into some dry clothes. You think about taking a shower to wash the lake water off you, but the lake seemed so pristine and you don't smell like you did before taking a swim. You're exhausted anyway, so you simply strip down, dry yourself with a towel, and throw on some pajamas.
You tell Clay that you're calling it an early night so he won't make any noise that will disturb you. You retire to your room and collapse on your bed. A thought about how nice your skin feels after swimming in the lake passes through your mind, but you don't linger on it very long as you easily sink into a restful sleep.