Steam

How I quickly learned about Love and its disintegration

                The steam of the water slithered along my body. Just like a snake before he attacks his prey. I guided my face up to the nozzle of the showerhead and let the water tumble over my eyelids, slip down my nose and curve over my lips before it trickled down my body. I brought my fingers up and traced them delicately over my eyelashes, opening my eyes to the abrupt sound of the front door being shut. I figured she was here to get her stuff. I hunched my body forward and turned off the shower while squeezing my thick strands of black hair to release the excess water.

                The bathroom door opened and shut as abruptly as the front door had. I shyly called out, “Cat is that you?” as if she hadn’t seen me naked numerous times before. There was no response. I huffed out breath aggravatingly; it mingled with the hot smoky steam that still cascaded from the spout above me, she must still be mad at me for God knows what. I tugged the shower curtain back slightly, so I could grab the towel off the hanger without having to see her. Instead of grabbing the towel, something, someone grabbed me.

                My body froze with terror; the steam came down in blankets of chilly remorse, Goosebumps rained all over me, the fine hairs on my arms sprang up, trying to protect me from the inevitable. My long curly hair made the only noise in this deafening blow of silence, as it dripped water down the drain, the sound of water hitting the bathtub like an off-tune heartbeat, then sliding into the dark endless hole, the steam snickering above it, never to beat again.