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[Paraselene]

Prologue of an untitled novel:

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The hot water streams over my aged skin, and a recently recurring mental sensation causes a disorientation. It only happens in the shower. Logically, I know the acrylic beneath my feet is secure. Yet, as I enjoy the enveloping combination of water and steam, a momentary reprieve from the local chill that reaches my bones, the bottom of the tub seems flimsy enough to give way beneath my weight.

Turning around with care, I allow my back to receive a massage from an effective flow.

I used to scoff at how you always mentioned wanting to visit a masseuse, I think as emotions overwhelm me. “And now it's my back that's always bothering me.”

Wincing at the memory and the arthritic stabs in my hands, I think, My fingers were never any good at helping to relieve muscle knots, but what I wouldn't give to have you back just for the opportunity to try again.

As I try to recall your face behind closed eyelids, I tilt my head back. And I fall into a most comforting darkness.

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