Cold showers and pensive hope.
Chilly, cold showers bringing the biting water down my back, never help. No matter how much you want the icy cold water to chase the pain gnawing at your insides away, it never does. Contrary to popular belief, the sound of water falling on and around you doesn’t mute the piercing shrieks echoing within your head either. It was the twenty-fifth day of September when I rushed into the bath to wash the tears away, wishing against all odds that the biting cold water from the power shower would somehow make the chill running through my spine vanish. It was one of those mellow autumn afternoons but the warmth was blocked by the frigid tiled walls that caged me. Hope is what keeps the weakest of us going and at that moment, all I could do was to pray to the god I had never believed in-pray that the water pelting on my bare back would cleanse me of all my flaws so that you could fall in love with me once more, right from square one. But cold showers never help. It is t...