Echoes of Warmth Beneath White Foam

Steam rises—a white veil for my weary bones.
The bath is a porcelain sanctuary, drowning out the city’s roar of sirens and steel.
Petals drift like fallen thoughts against my skin, soft as secrets whispered in sleep.
I close my eyes; I am no longer an employee with a name tag or a face on a screen.
Here, I am just water and warmth.
The rosewater clings to me—a delicate balm for the jagged edges of the day’s stress.
Outside, Tokyo pulses in neon veins. Inside? Only my breath rises as mist against the mirror.
One message glows on the nightstand: "Are you home yet?"
I don't answer. Not yet.
The water holds me—a liquid hug from a world that demands so much and gives back nothing but noise.
Let it stay this way for just one more minute.
A bubble pops, vanishing into the steam like my worries.

Editor: Kaleidoscope