Time for a Fiction in 58, since I haven’t challenged myself in forever.
By the way, I recently went over 100,000 unique viewers to this blog of mine. Cool.
The shower has seats, he’s never understood why, but today he doesn’t question. He’s sitting under the hot flow, head bent, watching water drop toward the drain.
Anniversaries are supposed to be happy. This one brings up bile, dark and ugly, burning his throat.
He spits, gags.
The straight razor sits open on the counter, calling.