Steam from a shower.

He woke up to the loud click of the bathroom door closing. The sound of water spraying out of the shower head began and he looked around the room.

Empty whiskey bottles littered the filthy carpet. Beer bottles of mismatched brands sat on flat surfaces around the room. Nearly all of them had a swig of flat beer and a floating cigarette butt inside. The curtains had been pulled down from the window and his leather jacket hung in their place. There was the vague smell of sex in the room. Pussy and semen and maybe a hint of vomit lingered in the air.

His right boot was still on, wrapped up in a mess of pants, belt and underwear. The left boot was nowhere to be found. He briefly pondered the crimson blood stains on his white tank top before hearing the buzz of his cellphone in the tangled trousers.

He popped open the phone and read the message.

“Hey, babe. I’m sorry about last night. Hope you made it home safe. Your loving wife, Katie.”

He turned his bloodshot eyes to the steam creeping under the door.

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