I read my book in the bath. Candlelight and a dripping tap. Someone screams outside.
I try very hard not to be here, focusing on words that don’t belong to me. If I just stay afloat…
I don’t want to move and I don’t want to stay. For now, I try not to think about your hand on my back and the way you said my name. The quiver in your voice. As if I would disintegrate upon your touch. You were right. I did.
I don’t recognise me either. I was supposed to have things to say. They got lost when the bathwater drained. I disappointed you again. I disappointed me again.
I sit in the empty bath long enough for my skin to dry. The candles burn out.
I’m still here.