Watery Grave
If only they were brighter. The first trickle of water reaches the pointed toe of my nude stilettoes, the droplets appearing to peel away from the shiny material. The sound of the running water soothes me as I stare at the pearlescent bathtub now rapidly overflowing, like a tiny ocean, powerful waves rippling outward until they come cascading over the precipice and onto the marble below. I rip my gaze from the deluge of water. It falls upon my silvery image . Blue eyes sparkle back at me. My hair falls loosely upon my shoulders in a shimmering halo of liquid gold. It’s no surprise they all fall for me; I’m perfect.