The Shower's Embrace

I reach out my hand, swiping my fingers under the water, testing the temperature. It's perfect - that sweet spot between warmth and heat that coaxes tension from muscles and invites release.

I take a step forward, and let the droplets engulf me. They tap against my skin like a thousand tiny fingers, drumming a soothing rhythm that I melt into easily.

I turn, slowly, deliberately, until my back meets the full force of the stream. I tilt my head back, so the water soaks through to my scalp, cascades over my hair and trickles down my spine, like it knows the way.

A shiver runs through me, a tingle that spreads, sparking every nerve in its path. My skin prickles as goosebumps form, a feeling I embrace with every part of me. A soft moan escapes my lips with appreciation as I surrender to the warmth.

Steam is already rising into the air, drifting lazily towards the open window, creating a curtain to shield me from the outside world.

This is a haven. A safe space. Free of obligations, of expectation, of masks to wear. The only place I can feel truly alone, truly relaxed. The water doesn't ask questions. The walls don't expect answers.

I lather shampoo into my hair, my fingers massaging my scalp in slow, deliberate circles. Soft clouds of Then conditioner smooths through the ends, while clouds of foam bloom against my skin. I run my hands over my shoulders, down my arms, tracing curves with a quiet appreciation. The rich lather clings before slipping away, warm and indulgent.

I lather shampoo into my hair, my fingers massaging my scalp in slow, deliberate circles until the tension begins to loosen.

A rinse, and then the silky glide of conditioner follows I smooth it through my ends, where it is left to rest while I take a moment to close my eyes and enjoy the sensation of the water on my skin.

By the time the last trace of conditioner is carried away, I'm already reaching for the shower foam—thick and luxurious in my palm, blossoming on contact with skin. I smooth it over my shoulders, across my collarbone, down my arms… slow, absent strokes, my hands tracing familiar curves without needing to think. The rich, indulgent lather clings briefly before slipping away, leaving only warmth and softness behind.

A fresh layer follows - this time lower, more deliberate - as I raise one leg, then the other. A razor glides over skin with practised ease.

All of these small rituals that need no thought. Movements on autopilot, as my mind continues to drift.

Time has no meaning here. It's easy to let go. Minutes pass unnoticed while my thoughts run away with themselves.

From old memories that tug at the corners of my heart, to deep thoughts I usually keep buried, to complete nonsense.

One minute I'm replaying (and re-writing) a chance encounter from 12 years ago, the next I'm belting out a power ballad. (FYI, a bottle of Imperial Leather Foamburst is perfect as a makeshift microphone.)

And then, within it all, there's the occasional moment when I catch myself wondering...

It’s a fleeting thought, one that’s almost easier to ignore, but it catches me off-guard and hangs around longer than expected, as if my imagination is playing tricks on me. It causes my mind to wander, though not in the persistent way it used to.

This time is gentler, it feels different - like it's a softer, more distant pull. It's a quiet whisper of familiarity, as if to remind me of the comfort that lingers, even when everything else feels like it's moving on. I can't help but wonder if those same distant echoes of what once was ever cross the mind of another, and how they would be received if so.

A knock on the door brings me back to the present. Irritated by the interruption, I call out 'won't be long'. Time is no longer suspended, and has reclaimed its hold.

My hands move on instinct, quickly reaching for my face wash, the coolness of it cutting through the warmth as I scrub away the lingering haze. Meanwhile, breaths of steam are still hanging in the air like a soft reminder of this peaceful solitude.

The last of the foam slides away with the rinse, leaving me feeling fresh, but I can already feel the pull back to the outside world. Once I set foot outside this refuge, that’s it - the world will demand its share again.

The knock comes again, louder this time. A quiet sigh escapes me as I reach up to turn the shower off.
'I'm done.'