What Happens After You?

After you.

It wasn't until I could no longer remember what it was that made me... myself, that I realized how accustomed I'd come to you.

Whether I had done it on purpose or not, the rushing water of the shower head poured down onto my back, leaving red wherever it touched. The steam filled my lungs until I could no longer heave my chest up and down for the purposes of breathing.

It was then that I realized,

I forgot a towel.

Not once turning the water off, I stepped out of the shower, and stared into the foggy reflection of myself that had been clear only moments before where I stood picking out all of the parts of myself that reminded me of you. Everything I had always disliked, everything you loved. It only made me dislike it even more.

Returning, this time with a towel, I stepped back under the shower head and burned the skin of my back all over again. Another thing that I'd become accustomed to.

I stood there for a few moments thinking of everything I could say, and there was nothing. Nothing I could say, nothing I could do. So, I grabbed the shampoo.

I close my eyes under the hot water as I washed off the layers of soap, remembering the way you used to look at me. And how I knew that look was something I'd never see again.

I watched the drain until all of the soap disappeared.

Then picked up the bottle, washing my hair for the third time this day with the shampoo, trying to rid myself of the scent of you.