The water trickled down, sprinkling across her back; drops of water surfing on her curves. Then colliding with other drops, the stream of water rushed down. They are a mob of rebellious polar molecules, abandoning ship and disappearing down the drain.
She calmly played with the sponge, inhaling the peach scented softness of the lathery silk. She wondered where the story would end. Mistakes slammed behind tightly secured doors, only to be pried open by her memory.
Physical proof that she had lived and learned: she chose to take the step. She had chosen a long time ago, but it was harder for her to decide if she would do it right.
Her life was a story to be told, cherished and lived with. Her tragedy of a triumphant life, was one she couldn't help but be an audience to. Decently decorated with male involvement punctuated by one first love and one great love, she grew to know how she needed to be loved.
She smiled at the thought of him, seeing his brown eyes before her. He was not her first, but he surely was the greatest. The journey that led her to him changed, but continued with him, and now.....