The words over at Three Word Wednesday are hollow, misery and shallow. Not very uplifting, huh? I actually, for the first time in more than 150 attempts, missed a 3WW last week. Too many early deadlines, not enough sleep.
The steam on the window is turning slowly to frost, and if he concentrates, he thinks he can actually see crystals form. The fog is from an intensely long, insanely hot shower, where he let the water cascade over his body from the wide rain head he’d installed for her. He let the water go, along with his thoughts, until the water heater emptied and climbed into bed wet and naked.
He pulls her pillow under his head, breathes deep, hoping to catch a whiff of her. He turns his head into the hollow, into the impression left by her head, but he can’t conjure anything except the misery of the hour.
He turns back to the window, sighs. There’s no moon, and a cold winter night twinkles with stars. He lets his vision go fuzzy, and with it his thoughts. His breathing goes shallow, his chest barely rises and falls. It’s a trance he’s practiced for a hundred sleepless nights and for once his mind calms. But just for an instant.
And it all comes flooding back, the hurt and the pain and he rolls onto his back and screams at the ceiling until his eyes sting, his cheeks redden and his chest heaves.
He tosses off the comforter, kicks at the sheets to free his legs and stumbles back into the bathroom. He takes one last look at the windows, which are clear of fog and in the dark fumbles for the shower controls. The water is hot again, and he gets in, plants his palms against the tile and lets the cascade of water fall over him.
Trying again, his tears mingle with water he cannot see as it tumbles down the drain.
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