As usual, all good things—no matter how small—come to an end. Often much too soon. And my bath is no exception.

Well…I suppose it wasn’t so much a bath as it was a sit-and-soak. Not that I could help that. Even the smallest attempts to lather my body resulted in nothing but a butt-load of discomfort and pain that I just gave up trying altogether, even though I would love nothing more than to vigorously scrub every last trace of yesterday away.

Water that felt incredible seemingly just a moment ago has now gone so cold that I’ll probably end up catching pneumonia if I stay submerged in it any longer. Reluctantly, I prop myself up, emerging from the tub even slower than I got in, my movements measured and cautious. The last thing I want is to accidentally slip and add a major concussion to my long list of physical woes.

I step out, feeling the water part from my skin like fudge, my body sluggish and heavy in the way you get after being in a pool for a while, only worse, and I find myself intentionally keeping my gaze off it the entire time.

I reach for a single, over-sized robe nearby, foregoing the lush pile of towels next to it. I don’t even have the energy to dry myself off. I slide into it, careful to not further irritate any sections of broken skin. But my caution is almost unnecessary because it literally feels like a blanket of clouds, unbelievably soft and warm, the kind of cozy you don’t expect and can’t ever get enough of.

A most welcome distraction.

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