Waiting for May

“I’m sorry, I’m running late. You don’t mind waiting while I shower, do you?” May bit down on her lower lip. “Just think about me, naked, with hot water running down my—”

“Keep that up and we’ll never make it to the play.”

She laughed wickedly and dashed into the bathroom, pulling the door shut behind her. The water squeaked on and began raining against the floor.

After five minutes I grew restless. Sighing, I flipped through the old issue of Cosmo that sat on her coffee table, paying special attention to the circled parts.

When thirty minutes had passed and there was no sign of the water shutting off, I had had enough.

I rapped on the door impatiently. “May, come on. We’re going to be late.”

She didn’t answer.


I tried the handle but it was locked. I ran to the kitchen and grabbed a knife to jimmy open the door.

There was no sign of her. The bathroom was empty. I pushed the shower curtain aside and almost threw up.

A ring of pink surrounded a mat of blonde hair that stuck out of the drain.

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