The autumn rain was falling while the housework went on. He and his wife, both in their early forties, spent the day at home with chores. When she urged him to go with her to a public thermal bath, he was reluctant. He went anyway.
The first Aufguss came at the hour: water and essential oils poured over hot stones in a scheduled sauna session. It shifted the feel of the day. Afterward came the warm outdoor pool, where cold rain tapped the water and the two of them leaned against the edge together. They talked about family and friends, good times and difficult times, and plans for the future. The rain kept falling around them as they stayed there side by side.
The visit settled into a rhythm: sauna, pool, drinks at the bar, then another round. They did four rounds. At the bar, they chatted with a stranger who turned out to work as a sports journalist. The next session began on the hour. By then, the man who had not wanted to leave the house was going back for another round.
The last sauna session was gentler and less hot. The lights dimmed, and tiny LED points in the ceiling gave the room the look of a starry sky. The attendant waved a towel, circulating the scented air. There was conifer, then grapefruit, then rhododendron and vanilla. First came November Rain by Guns N’ Roses, then Still Loving You by the Scorpions. His wife sat one bench below him and rested her head in his lap.
The room held its low light, the music, the changing scents. He sat on the bench with her head in his lap while the attendant moved the towel through the air. Outside, rain had marked the pool water through the afternoon; here, the ceiling’s tiny lights stayed above them as the session continued.
After the sauna rounds, they went to the steam room for a salt scrub, as they always did on these visits. Then they went home.
