Bathwater

 

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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.

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3 thoughts on “Bathwater

  1. There is something in your writing … a reward from every read. A piece of a story that has the reader knowing there is more, but is content not to ask. Well done 🙂

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