So anyway
Trying something.
I'm a mess, my face haggard and dirty. In the scant light, I can only get a shadowy view. It should be familiar, but...
I can't focus. I'm all wet, and the pain in my hand, and the noise. The rush of water, a peal of thunder, cars zooming by somewhere below. I...it's in my head. My shoulders feel tight. I get a clumsy grip on the sink and crank it off, fumbling with my injured hand for the tub. Blood trails in the water, black in...black as the night. For a moment, I recoil, but the rush of water is pushing into my face, into my flesh. It has to stop.
But I'm slipping. I cling to the side of the old tub; the claw-footed monstrosity seems to be mocking me.
I am adrift...
My hand finds the knob, sweet chrome savior. The rushing stops, and I rest, clinging to the porcelain as if it were a life preserver. All sound, all sensation seems to leak away, drifting lazily with the last sheet of water tumbling towards the floor. What am I doing here? The bleeding has ebbed, the flesh bloated and pruny. How long have I sat here...how long has the water stopped rushing into me?
I let go of my life preserver, set adrift on my tiny sea. Take stock. Take...stock.
I start to shiver.
I'm a mess, my face haggard and dirty. In the scant light, I can only get a shadowy view. It should be familiar, but...
I can't focus. I'm all wet, and the pain in my hand, and the noise. The rush of water, a peal of thunder, cars zooming by somewhere below. I...it's in my head. My shoulders feel tight. I get a clumsy grip on the sink and crank it off, fumbling with my injured hand for the tub. Blood trails in the water, black in...black as the night. For a moment, I recoil, but the rush of water is pushing into my face, into my flesh. It has to stop.
But I'm slipping. I cling to the side of the old tub; the claw-footed monstrosity seems to be mocking me.
I am adrift...
My hand finds the knob, sweet chrome savior. The rushing stops, and I rest, clinging to the porcelain as if it were a life preserver. All sound, all sensation seems to leak away, drifting lazily with the last sheet of water tumbling towards the floor. What am I doing here? The bleeding has ebbed, the flesh bloated and pruny. How long have I sat here...how long has the water stopped rushing into me?
I let go of my life preserver, set adrift on my tiny sea. Take stock. Take...stock.
I start to shiver.