When what you enjoy means what you hate

It was her secret. The warm water, the bubbles, the all encompassing comfort of floating in the bath. Soaking up the luxury of the moment, she remained completely in the present. The past would not bother her here and the future needn’t concern her yet. As long as the rest of the house continued to bask in silence meant that she was alone to enjoy this moment. The steam rolling over exposed skin, the droplets creeping up her hair.

Her hair. She pushed aside the thought.

The oils smelled like coconut and sandalwood. Occasionally she raised a foot out of the water and foam to feel the coolness of the air before returning it to the warmth. She brought her head back down and up, the small rivers of the bathwater slowly rolling off her chin and cheekbones. She sunk back in as the water began to cool. Her time was up. Serenity was over.

Her hair.

She exited the bath, rinsed off, and regretfully began the routine that would keep her hair from becoming a frizzy mess.

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