She pulls herself up slowly, almost lost in the swoop of the tub's edge. The inky-black basin against the receding checkerboard floor is a vortex. The warm water sloshes, beckoning her to sink back down. A hand, arm, elbow resist. A silent attendant awaits with a towel. She is the temple pillar, holding the entire composition upright. The faucet is a pair of robins with droopy beaks, perched floating in the void and gawking.
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