The warmth of the water races down my body, filling flesh and air alike with fire. Small incremental turns to the left beg for relief until at last I can setttle my body fully in the water without the scalding urge to withdraw.

Most people would think thst skin is all the same. At least I do. And yet the thought of my ex lingering in the blistering waters unphased grows in my head, the abrupt intrusion of a long unattended thought jarring me as I lean with face nestled in my elbow against the wall, allowing the water to focus on my low back. Thr fiery red of her skin as she’d emerge from the shower and don a towel to dry off was confusing, if not down right perplexing.

But perhaps it shouldn’t have been perplexing. The wrap of blankets she lounged beneath in the couch even in the midst of summer. The dense fog of the shower. The lingering in the beating sun with hardly a glistening drop of sweat, despite her protests otherwise. Perhaps in her pint size frame was the essence of an Azer, the fire dwarfs of Dungeons and Dragons.

Sliding myself along the shower well, allowing the heat to crash onto my tense and worn neck, I can’t help remember a time when she and I played D&D together. My character a grave and serious cleric, because I’m always the cleric. Hers a giddy and fun loving Druid. Thr deep contrast an undeniable parallel to the visages of our lives that was not missed by my friends, and other players.

But perhaps it was that contrast that was rooted in the disentanglment of us.

I turn into the water. It races down my face in waves on unrelenting warmth, fighting to get my mouth, nose and eyes. I stare down at the drain and watch as the day washes away.

Perhaps the freedom and fun loving minx was all too keen on living a life without the reservations of the stoic care taker. Perhaps it was the freedom seeking wildling over looked the regimented values undertaken by the devout one. Perhaps it was the soft skinned human that was not tough enough for the fiery Azer. Perhaps the insufficiency if existing within the confines of duty and painstaking love can only be reduced to “you’ll be fine. Stop worry about it” for the wild child that knew no burden of obligation.

I drew the shower to a halt and watch as my pale skin smokes from the moderate heat, and step on to the cold damp tile of the bathroom. I wrap the towel around myself and stand before the mirror, and look deeply upon the dark circles under my eyes.

Perhaps alone is what I’m supposed to be.