The Lost Girl

My own childhood was also extremely hazy. There were so many gaps, patches of white that I desperately wanted filled in. I suppose I can see now that I was searching for myself as much as I was her.

The following morning, I placed a bacon sandwich on his lap. He murmured thanks –our conversations having slowed to bare minimum. Looking up at me, his eyes conveying an uncertainty.

“About that bath?”

“Yes, tonight.”

I began to walk away, casting a casual glance backwards. He was doing exactly the same to me. Our eyes met in an awkward stare, and we both quickly returned to our separate activities.

That night, I drew him a bath. I watched as the cool ceramic was filled with piping hot water. Steam rose to the air and into my eyes. The mirrors turned glassy silver as they steamed over.

About me

This is me: home-writer, book-reader, dog-lover and occasional poet. I make this website to share my and my friends texts with You, dear Reader. Please: read carefully, don't be scary, upgrade your mood and be king and leave your comment. :)