there she stands, beneath the cascading scalding water. her thoughts diffuse back to the the conversation fifteen minutes before and jump randomly to other snippets of memory. there are some scenes she would rather forget, ignore and others she would obliverate, if she could. in flashes she recalls: huddled behind boxes; kissing; the smell of the study at night; that iridescent smile.
the water is hot to the touch but she turns the tap further toward red, savouring the tingling sensation of blood pooling in the soles of her feet. wash it all away. she thinks dispassionately like a flame in a fire licking down a house. A home, a treasure throve of articles from another lifetime. The heat on her skins brings her some comfort. she relishes the pain, the tiny pin pricks on her back and the burns on her neck.
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sometimes, always and never you understand. sometimes i need those arguments as much as i need you. you always take it the wrong way. you never, understand. sometimes i feel like i'm in a vacuum flapping my arms and mouthing soundless words. i scream and scream and scream but always dispassionately, you sit there, weighing me with your warm, confused and indignant eyes. and i want nothing more than to dig them out and stuff my words in your sockets.
