After the Shower. AI-Generated.
After the Shower
After the shower, the mirror is always honest. Steam loosens its grip slowly, like a reluctant confession, and my face appears in fragments—an eye first, then a cheek, then the whole tired map of me. Water beads on my shoulders and runs down in thin, obedient lines, carrying nothing with it but heat. I watch it go and feel foolish for expecting more.
