A voice fleeing from memory called out to her.

The features of a face began to surface in the mirror before her.

She whispered softly,

“You are not here… you are not real.”

His gaze drifted toward the bathtub, as though it were the place of encounter.

She left the mirror, as if something within her had decided to surrender—temporarily—and began preparing the bath.

She filled it with water, then took from one of her bags scented soap, aromatic oils, and two candles heavy with the scent of lavender.

Once the tub was full, she scattered a handful of salts into the water, let the soap dissolve, and added rose oil and tea tree oil. She lit the candles, turned up the saxophone music, and switched off the light.

She lifted her hair carelessly and gathered it with a golden clip, slipped out of her dress, and lingered, tracing the curves of her body as her fingers sensed the softness of her skin, as though savoring every detail of her own beauty.

She eased herself into the warm water, relaxed, and surrendered to stillness. The music drifted through the room, each note making love to the fragrant air, her sighs blending with every drop of water that veiled the pores of her body.

Her fingertips glided softly along her thigh, slowly rising until they came to rest upon her breast; she cupped it gently in the palm of her hand, then released it.

The space throbbed with desire and ardor, as though it were in the presence of a goddess of fertility and love.

Her eyes were closed as she teased her imagination with stirring thoughts and sensations, just as her hand teased her body, surrendered to the warmth of the water.

As moments followed one another and her breath quickened, she reached a place beyond time and space, and the universe was flooded by a surge of overwhelming ecstasy carried on the tide of her moans. Gradually, the clamor subsided, her body softened, and calm returned, drawing her back into rest.

An hour passed in quiet surrender before the apparition drawn from the past. She replaced her body’s submission to the water with its restraint in a neatly folded towel resting on the shelf above the tub.

A heavy breath escaped her, closing the ritual of melting candles; and as they faded, so did the moment of revelation… the moment of relinquishment, dissolving with it the features of that near-yet-distant stranger beyond the gate of imagination.