Marie lay back in the bath, the hot water rising slightly as she sighed loudly into the candlelit bathroom, the desperate sound echoing back into her head and haunting her. The warmth of the air couldn’t relax her like it normally would. A bath could work off anything, from stress to sadness, but not this new emotion it seemed.

Tears as hot as the steamy water began to cascade over Marie’s cheekbones, dripping into the bath with a resonant plop, and each plop seemed to embody how she felt at that moment: shit.

Six years, she repeated to herself silently. Six years! Six years of life – of love – thrown away in a moment. Marie had loved her, in a way that she had never felt love before, and nothing hurt more than when it had ended. Marie rubbed her hand over her heart, and remembered the pain that seemed to accompany the harsh words of her lover.

The hand moved over Marie’s face and up into her hair, then back into the water, but this time her head followed, and stayed there until the next day.