Collen's Story Part 1 D
Some typos for now but this is the beginning of her shower:
"My long anticipating Lapine ears keenly in wait. Fingertip still pressed against the small button. From nothing, a single controlled note of slow steady incoming increasing until leveling out when a one-two, one-two, one-two, ....a perfected continues steady drumbeat cueing in the sharp entrance of both from both base and guitar perfectly synchronizined and ongoing given its own space if time before Don's voice joins in.
🎶 Drive it on up for a while, leave your trouble behind 🎶
That is the moment I removed my fingertip from the soft gray button, reaching for a bottle of bodywash resting on a small platform halfway down from the top of a tall light blue shower caddy mounted in the right corner. Slowly I wrapped all three fingers and thumb around, feeling condenscation beading along its cheap plastic exterior against my palm."
Continuation of shower scene:
With my other hand I reached for my red shower scrunge hanging from its own small hook to my right. I rocked my waste ride to side while drawing it closer to the bottle before flipping its cap open with a quick thumb flick. Tilting it letting it's clear thick fluid content pour upon the crumply fabric held beneath. I didn't squeeze the bottle. Let gravity do the work, by twisting my wrist, bringing almost straight up sight down. Both my blues taking sight of the oozing downward fluid. It was slow stretching into a strand. It finally landed upon the scrunge. With a circular motion, round and round, a spiral began taking shape. Into the crannies of the scrunge it rolled down deep where it could. It drizzled, thinning out into a strand that snapped away from the bottle resulting in a messy pattern that disappeared with the help of hot water. I squeezed the scrunge, rolling it around in the palm of my hand. Applying pressure by making a fist to see small suds bubbling between each finger. Releasing the pressure drew the suds back in it. I let the tip of my thumb lightly rub for the feel of wet fabric in hand with curving fingers. My thumb tip feeling for its pedal like shape sending strokes forward and back spreading the remnense of the strand clinging to its surface. I heard my breathe deepen for a moment.
