The warm water cascaded down my shoulders, washing away the sweat and tension from earlier. I stood under the showerhead in the ground floor bathroom, letting the heat penetrate my muscles as steam filled the small space. It was miraculous that the water still worked—one of the few luxuries left in this crumbling world.
Sydney and I had agreed, without needing to discuss it, that we'd shower separately. What had happened between us was still too raw, too new to navigate the intimacy of sharing that space. There was an unspoken understanding that we needed these few minutes apart to process what had just changed between us.
When I finished, I wrapped a towel around my waist and walked to the living room. "All yours," I called softly.
