the temperature stands 48 degrees and the fields are a muddy yellow. portions of sunlight filter through the cloud body. milk-like, the sky is backlit all the way across. snow is only in the mountains.
a young woman sits reclined in the bathtub. she scans around and shifts frequently. her body is mostly submerged. ovulation will occur soon. earlier in the day, she went off to the river and plunked in as a celebration. the beach was filled with spry footsteps and spins. the bath water is tepid. she closes her eyes for some time.
on her forearm the skin is risen with yellowing scabs. she lifts it, a soggy white wet mush. the wound is a decent and shallow gash across the part of a wrist that might rest on a writing desk. she looks at it and grazes it, her eyes unchanging.
quickly, half of the water drains. the woman twists the left-most tap and an outpour steams from the faucet . her feet hover close to where the waters meet. the room is quiet and still except for this. outside the open window, birds twiddle to one another frequently. it is december.
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