Raindrops

I normally bathe with the shower dial at 4. Usually, 5 was too hot for me. Today, it was at 7. The hot water came splashing down on me, slapping my face partially covered by my hair. A cloud of mist appeared around me in the shower pod. I felt my not-very-enviable skin being gently scalded, yet I wanted to turn the heat dial higher. I cupped my palms around my ears, listening to the water fall from the shower head like heavy rain. It brought me back to yesteryears remembering when was the last time I did like that back home. It also reminded me of being in the car while the heavy rain poured. I miss being in a car. I created a lather in my hair and let it run down my face. I picked up my bath crème and slapped it across my body, then gently spreading it. The perfume of the shower cream evoked senses and memories. It’s odd how these toiletries’ scent can bring me back to days when I first used it. I turned the shower on again. I didn’t know why, but I just stood still letting the water rush down along with the soapy bubbles. My mind was dense, like a virgin forest. But this forest did not have any animals gleefully strolling or leaping about, or birds chirping, or flowers waving to the wind. The hot water was making my skin tight, drying my skin of it’s natural oils and damaging it further. It is already rather flaky. I didn’t seem to care. After a while, I turned the shower off. I need fresh air to breathe.