Hungry for Love. Nathaniel Feldmann

the rug in front of the sink. I caught my eyes glinting green in the mirror, my feathered hair a total matted mess, but smiled back with the knowledge that I evaded a bad first impression. I turned the faucet and waited until the head stopped sputtering before stepping under the cold water.

      After the soggy ride on the train back home, the layer of slime that collected across my skin needed a thorough wash. Under the stream, I closed my eyes and gurgled water in the back of my throat.