The bearded man found himself once again examining his reflection in a dusty mirror. His features had somehow hardened since the last time he had seen them in that abandoned cabin in the woods. He had a few scrapes from the tightly tangled branches and much to his chagrin he seemed to breaking out. His face was flushed and he could just make out a series of red pockmarks. He supposed it was a ridiculous thing to worry about considering the circumstances--but he couldn't shake the feeling. He felt filthy. His longish dark hair resembled a bird's nest and was stiff to the touch.
He glanced down at the porcelain bowl set into the wooden surface of the bathroom sink. Unlike the abandoned house he'd just left, everything here seemed to be in relatively good condition. A tube of toothpaste laid to the side of the sink, almost perfectly perpendicular to its squarish frame. A container of toothbrushes rested above it, each brush with not a bristle out of place. This bathroom had been taken care of meticulously and ostensibly had been used recently. But there was no one here. There had been no one anywhere.
An experimental twist of the faucet's knob revealed that the house still had running water. He wasn't surprised. It seemed as if the house had been inhabited only days before. Maybe even more recently than that. It was anyone's guess what had happened to them. He didn't want to think about it. He appraised his grimy reflection once more. He should take a shower. Then he would set out again and maybe he would find someone. Someone who could tell him how to get home--and maybe have some insight on how he had gotten there in the first place.
The shower took up the center of the bathroom, dividing the toilet and sink from what looked like a completely different room with a dresser, closet, and a small desk. The bearded man assumed the two rooms had once been separate but he couldn't be sure. Someone had probably gotten ready for work in this room every morning. Several clean towels were folded over a bar jutting out of the side of the structure enclosing the shower. An empty hamper was placed neatly in a corner of the room. If it had been in his bathroom it would be piled high with dirty clothes and towels. Whoever had lived here was certainly a tidier person that he was. He grimaced as he ran his fingers through his filthy hair. He was stalling; he needed to shower.
Shivering in the room's surprising chill, the man began to peel off his dusty clothes. He realized he probably should have turned on the shower first to get the water hot so he did so. It was one of those showers that had single lever to control the temperature. It wasn't what he was used to but he was sure he could figure it out with a little experimentation. He confirmed that the water was indeed getting warmer and resumed disrobing. He piled his clothes unceremoniously into the hamper and stepped into the shower, savoring the feel of the hot water washing over him.
Truth be told, the water was a little too hot, but he did not move the lever. The contrast of the hot water on his cold flesh was excruciating but exquisite. Normally the temperature would be far too much to be comfortable, but he wanted to savor it for now, let it sink into his flesh. He wanted the water to melt away the cold from his body and take him over. He let his mind blank as steam rose from his flesh. He began to lose track of time and his mind wandered. He'd brought the laptop and the phone with him from the other house. It had probably charged enough to be used by now. Maybe it would have service. It seemed unlikely but nothing seemed to make sense lately.
His thoughts drifted to her again. He imagined her slender arms encircling him at the waist, her damp hair caressing his shoulder. He was hot now, almost comfortably so--but it was not the warmth he craved. He felt empty. Even though his entire body was burning up, he still could not shake the cold that had settled into his heart.
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