I like it cold at times when the water splashed down my cheek and swept the elongating bangs over my face. It was the stillness of the night or perhaps the slowly but assuredly dripping sound of the water that kept my feet from departing the very spots they were standing on. It was almost a luxury to spend a few moments by myself in front of the small polished mirror staring at the girl who subconsciously return the exact same gaze.
The chill of the night has creeped its way into the cubicle. It is in this place where all things are laid bare, stripped from all decent coverage. As water started gushing down through the shower nozzles, brushing swiflty over my spine, here at this wee hour that my mind starts to linger and flash images of what the noon day had offered; replaying back scenes of the early part of my accomplished day.
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