Flow

 

He lumbers into the bathroom, hangs up his robe and quickly enters the shower. When he is naked, he does not look around lest he be surprised by the image of the woman-pig reflected everywhere in the mirrored walls that surround him. He grunts with complaint as he knocks over soap and shampoo bottles, breaks towel rods.

The water never comes out hard or fast enough. It trickles and leaks. He is so dirty, so angry. He wants to be hosed down.

Is he dreaming of washing away his troubles or of climbing into the womb from which he was forcefully expelled? Or is that he is so repulsive, even water avoids touching him.