Purification.

Scrub, scrub, scrub. On her knees, the unhappy woman scrubs with her sponge. There are things on her mind. She has taken off her gold engagement ring in order to keep it clean. The scrubbing motion dislodges a silver crucifix from between her breasts, and it slips out of her blouse. It dangles from her neck, glinting in the dim light, and hangs unattended. The acidic smell of cleaner assaults the air. There are six months worth of neglect to be cleansed and purified. The dirt astounds the unhappy woman, but her mood slowly lightens as the filth comes away. A good cleanser makes the job much easier. It takes away unnecessary strain from the task at hand. The woman is wise in this. As she banishes the last trace of corruption with her purifying, porous weapon, a glow tints her skin and brightens her eyes. Standing up, she replaces the silver crucifix. It rests at home upon her warm skin. But she is not quite ready to replace her gold engagement ring. She stares at it, unblinking and alone. Risk and promise loom over it like an ominous cloud. Her brave ring finger twitches with anticipation, slowly working up her courage. By then something inexplicable has welled up within her. With a feeling of dread, she closes her eyes and takes the leap. There is a tiny splash in the dark, mute pool.