chaud-froid

There's that moment.

When the hair's been washed clean, no soap bubbles remain. When your objectives for getting in that shower cubicle have been fulfilled. It's that moment of nothingness. A moment when time seems to slow down, and nothing matters but that hot water cascading down your body. That moment when all your worries, your aches, your pains seem to drain, swirling down beneath your toes. That moment you want to last forever, because standing in that tiny shower cubicle, you feel rested. You don't want to turn that water off. You don't want to open that door. You don't want the cold to rush in and make you start that hasty jittery process of grab-the-towel-off-the-rail-and-dry-off-quick-as-you-can.

But the work calls, the pile is ever growing, the paper still scant of words.

At least the bathrobe is warm.