The Green Barn

So he decided to go to the green barn, which was a little further away, along the northeastern edge of the farm, away from the road and away from the main farmhouse. That, he thought, must be why the workers had mostly gone to the red barn, because it was closer and larger and newer. The green barn was distant, small, old-fashioned, ramshackle and it smelled permanently of goats.
It was just a small barn that had been rigged with running water for a big group shower. It wasn’t even an actual shower — the red barn had real showerheads in individual stalls, but not the green barn. The green barn sported a powerful hose suspended over the barn floor and possessing many small holes aimed in every direction — this was not an actual device, mind you, someone had simply poked holes in the hose and upped the water pressure enough to make it spray over the whole of the central showering area in the green barn.
The day was so hot that Charlie dreaded a warm shower, but when he got near, he realized it wasn’t that hot at all. It sprayed lukewarm water. Just warm enough that it felt like a relaxing hug, and it soothed his aching muscles. The barn felt steamy, even though the water wasn’t warm enough to make steam. It felt that way because of the humid air, which felt like mist in the stuffy barn
There was a little changing area with some slabs of wood to use as benches, and next to it was a shelf lined with ratty thin towels and bars of white, unscented soap. But almost the entirety of the green barn comprised the showering area, which was simply on, no way to turn it off that Charlie could see. Maybe it was turned on over at the water heater that Charlie could see was mounted on the outside of the barn. It was dimly lit, but it gave out a cozy air, exactly what Charlie wanted in a group shower.
He’d always enjoyed a group shower.

From The Green Barn