Fiction

Warm

I slowly dip myself into the water. I always love warm water. Anything warm actually: morning tea, thick blanket, freshly dried laundry.

I remembered my last batch of laundry. It smelled like warm apple cider. I gathered all the clothes in my arms and hugged them tightly right out of the dryer door. I sniffed the cinnamon-apple smell and cried. Not hard, just weeping silently for a little while. I will miss that.


I closed my eyes and sank down further in the bathtub. The sleeping pills should kick in soon. I felt warm.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s