Wednesday, October 3, 2012


I'm on my knees. My eyes are level with hers. My face is wet.

A drop of water waits on my cheekbone for the right moment to fall and another skates the curve of my upper lip. I could taste it if I wanted to but I brush it away with the back of my hand.

It is not gone, though -- just spread out in a streak across my skin. How long until it evaporates into thin air?

She squeals and splashes the bathwater again. I am dripping. I am overcome.