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.