She had walked home without really being aware of her steps. She had grabbed her lit assignment and drawn a bath. She'd set her fattest towel (her special bath towel) on the sink, poured the bubble bath and lit the candle. All these things her mom had sent her for her last birthday. Perfect gift for a lonely, dateless girl. Her tears had dried but her insides felt raw, as if the salt of her crying had done permanent damage. She started in where she'd left off on A Room of One's Own. The words blurred strangely together but she gave attention to focus and when she read the lines, "What is meant by "reality"? It would seem to be something very erratic, very undependable"... she put the book down, carefully on the sink so as not to get it wet. She turned the water on hotter, and then let the faucet pour the water through her hands as she tried hard to recall the most recent memory of him. The moment had endured deliciously but of course, had ended too soon. And so here she was again in this world, immersed in the hottest water she could stand,recalling his face, his feet, his hair, the way he'd looked leaving. She needed some comfort. Surrendered to the warmth and the water, she inched down so her whole body, face included, was covered. She lay there listening to the sound of engulfing water. She was sad. That was just it. Sad. The confusion had dissipated but she was left here, in this house, this town, this world, alone. Her heart had not broken when he’d left but it was breaking now in his absence. He came at will it seemed and she wondered if she had any say in their meetings. Underwater, she imagined for a brief second what it would be like to scream soundless, submerged; to let the water fill her lungs. Coming up, she gasped for breath and reached blindly for a towel for her eyes. She wondered if he could see her now, see her choice, however meager, to live. See her pain. It was a strange thought and one she hadn't considered before. She whispered his name. Nothing. Finally,when the water had cooled, she rose and wrapped herself in that fluffy, thick, white towel which spoke of her solitude. She didn't even bother with pajamas. She just walked into her bedroom, laid down on top of the covers, thoughts of him, her blanket and fell into a deep sleep.