‘Ktish Ktish’ replied the cymbals to the drums. The sound danced tinnily across the air and into my bathroom window.
‘Just shutup’, I thought with venom. You aren’t any good now, what makes you think you’ll get any better!.
I frowned to myself in the dark, wiping my forehead. The sweat ran down my face anyway.
It’s such a waste of water, me having a bath. I only ever stay in for a few minutes before I get too hot and give up on relaxing.
I force myself to steep in the porcelain tub a little longer, then reach for the bleach-stained towel that hangs off the wall heater.
I shuffle into the hall, steam billowing from my body and listen to the last of the water gurgle down the plughole.
Never had a chance really.
Filed under: Humour & Irony, Words & Rants, bathtub, liverpool, music, poetry
