Bathing Beauty

She sits at the breakfast table, mindlessly eating her Cherrios. Her thoughts drift away.
She’s bathing in a beautifully ornate bathtub. It’s alabaster white with gold claw feet. The faucet is large and also gold. Steaming water is pouring out of it.
She reclines, laying cold cucumber slices over her eyes as the scent of lanvendar engulfs her. Rose petals lay around the edge of the tub.
She presses a button and Beethoven fills the room. A sigh escapes her lips.
For a moment in time she is swept away by the music. Her pusle quickens as the music hurries on and slows when it falls back into its sleepy rhythm.
Tears begin to course down her face. This moment in her life is beautiful.
But all good things must come to an end.
As the music crescendoes one last time, she picks up the straight razor lying beside her and slits her wrist. Blood pours from her as the music slows.

She jumps from her reverie as the cat twines around her ankles. She pats him on the head.
“Don’t worry, it’s just a dream.”

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