Poor Alice

She fell to her knees in the now cold shower. What had just happened, she couldn't remember, but she found herself staring at her shadow reflected on the shower's floor: it reminded her of a movie scene. She could see it playing in the back of her mind. A young woman falls to her knees in the middle of a street, the rain pouring down on her. She looks up at the retreating figure.

Alice shakes her head. She wasn't in a movie, nor would she ever be. She pulls herself up, and leans her head against the cool tile. Another movie scene: a woman desolate, cries against a lonely wall with no one to comfort her. NO! Alice jolts upright and turns the water heat up.

She loves the feel of the water pelting her bare skin. It allows her to feel nothing. She lets herself be taken over by the music and the feel of the water. Her mind wanders to imagining herself in a movie and this time she allows it. She rationalizes, if it's only in my head what harm can it do?

Poor Alice.

She opens her eyes and finds herself braced against the shower wall panting. This is not good, she thinks, not good at all. Alice falls once more. Down, down, down.

The white of the room is unfamiliar, but the face by her side is quite well known to her. He looks down at her, and she is suddenly aware that she is looking down at him. The sudden sound of loud erratic beating forces her to look at the body known as Alice, at the man who had been lost, crying over her.

Then all is gone. All but the blinding whiteness that refuses to go away.