LYSANDER
The hot water beat against my skin. I stood under the shower spray and let it wash away the remnants of the dream. Steam filled the bathroom. It curled around me like a living thing. I braced both hands against the tile wall and dropped my head forward.
The water ran down my back in rivulets. It should have felt cleansing. It didn't. Nothing could wash away the feeling of her weight on top of me. Nothing could erase the phantom taste of her lips.
I stayed there longer than I needed to. The water started to run lukewarm. Only then did I finally turn it off and step out. I grabbed a towel and dried myself mechanically before getting dressed in the clothes I'd laid out which happened to be dark trousers, a white shirt and a cest that matched the trousers. The uniform of an heir apparent.
My reflection stared back at me from the mirror. I looked the same as always. Put together. Composed. The perfect son.
None of it felt remotely real though.
