She turns the knob from cold to hot. Cara stands in the shower, mulling over the events of last night. What had happened? Frigid air is seeping outside the edges of the shower curtains and she pulls them closed as tight as she can. Her showers have always been an escape from it all: complete isolation where nothing is felt, but the tapping of water on your back and the sound of water drops against the shower’s porcelain interior. She turns the knob from hot to cold. Never had something felt both so open and shut. The case that is. She ran shampoo through her hair, hoping she could somehow wash her thoughts away, that maybe the grime of her past could be shed. She looks down at swirls of bubbles descending into the drain. She turns the knob from cold to hot. The impending doom of leaving the shower surfaces as she washes her knees. A cold world awaits on the other side of the shower curtain; one that she could not control, one where change is not so simple as the turn of a knob. When she moved into this apartment, she thought she would have no trouble adjusting to living alone again. She did. Cara turned off the shower and reached for her glasses, which she always put on the shelf for a bar of soap. Blinded by a fog on the lenses, she thrust open the shower curtain. Her body shivered and the clouded glasses instantly cleared. Grabbing her towel, she remembered a detached moment with her ex-husband from long ago. Welcome home.