Shower Fog


She stood in the square metal shower, the thick steam swirling around her.  She leaned her forehead against the wall and looked down at her feet, far, far away in a thick fog.  Her feet and the floor of the shower were hidden in the misty steam.  Like when you have stepped outside on a foggy day where you couldn’t see more than a few feet in front of yourself.

The hot water sluiced down her skin.  A burning sensation that was somewhat painful on her cold skin. By the time the water had reached her feet it was cold.  Chilled to the bone would have been the words her mother would have described it as.  She felt that cold.  As if her bones were made of freezing cold steel.  Her muscles and skin attached in cold hunks of meat.  Her blood felt congealed and thick, and her movements were slow.

She let her arms hang as the water continued to pound her back.  Suddenly the heat started to go deeper and her body broke out in goose-flesh.  She shivered and spun around so that the water heated the front of her body.  It felt so good. She felt the warmth awaken her mind so that she wasn’t so fuzzy.  She felt herself start to wake up.

By the time she had stepped out of the shower onto the fluffy bath mat, she was heated to the core.  She felt like an ooey gooey brownie hot from the oven.  Like warm caramel.  Ready to puddle on the floor.

Okay, this is just a bit of nothing that I started thinking about as I was trying to warm up in a shower after freezing myself trying to get plants covered and protected from a freeze tonight.  Sometimes you can be out working and you know you are cold, then all of a sudden the cold sinks deep in and you feel it everywhere and there is no way you will warm up unless you take a hot bath or shower.

For the record, I feel kind of ooey gooey right now.  Now if only I could crawl into a down comforter and snuggly up with a cup of tea.

Signing off


4 thoughts on “Shower Fog

      • Oh yes! I absolutely think this can be flash fiction. It just captures a moment in time. I’m a big believer in the fact that to have a story, one doesn’t necassarily have to have a plot…It’s all about the beauty of the prose, which you have here. No, I didn’t end up writing about showering. Perhaps it will be a good prompt one day though!

  1. Pingback: From Critiques to Flash Fiction « Escaping the Inkwell

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