My mum said that my writing seems "a bit affected". Thumbs down for being unsupportive of my creative work, mum.
Just kidding. I love my mum.
I just spent 30 minutes in the bathroom, sitting down on the non-slip tiles, lukewarm water streaming down the back of my neck, trickling down the side of my arms, down the front, over my breasts; held my head up and allowed the water to drizzle on my face. My skin was getting wrinkly but it felt good. Relaxing. Heavenly even.
I looked down and noticed a new mole sprouting. (Do moles sprout?)
And then, what seemed like an epiphanic moment, I realised, I could do with a bathtub.