The steam had already begun to fog the mirrors when Marina adjusted the water temperature. Dinner had concluded less than twenty minutes prior, a meal where her bare feet had explored Ricardo's shin under the table, where each bite seemed laden with unspoken promises. Now, with the house silent and her mother visiting an aunt in another city, Marina was plotting her next move.
She left the bathroom door cracked open, just enough for the sound of the water to be heard in the hallway. She undressed with deliberately slow movements, imagining that maybe he was on the other side, listening, envisioning. The fogged mirror reflected fragments of her body, the curve of a hip, the arch of a breast, before the steam completely obscured her image.
She stepped into the shower and let the water casc
