He stepped into the dark granite lined shower. He let the water pour over him, soaking his aching muscles and wetting his dark hair. Steam rose thick, billowing throughout the bathroom like tooley fog. He popped open the shampoo bottle, poured a dollop into his hand, and began to clean his weary scalp. The aroma of the shampoo cascaded down his face, then, with the help of the steam, flowed deeply into his nostrils. He winced at the avalanche of memories that flooded his minds eye. She was back, he could touch her, taste her, feel her again. It had been so long. He hurriedly washed the soap out of his hair, washing the memories down the drain with the rest of the suds. But long after the suds had dissipated into the water, the fragrance remained in his hair, and so did she.

He let out a heavy sigh, stepped out of the shower, grabbed a towl, and dried himself off. He returned to his room, a bed for one, and laid down. “Gnite” he said.

Off went the lights.