Day steps out of the shower, the fogged hot air following him as he pads towards the towels, reaching out for one of them to dry off his skin.
But then, he hesitates, hand still midair, looking at the fluffy soft towels before he retracts his hand.
Body glistening with water droplets, he walks slowly towards his bedroom, right to the full mirror by the edge of the bed, and looks at himself.
He does this. Look at his body, examine its shape, curves, skin dips, and all, with the eyes of clinical detachment. He has never looked at his body with any intention other than to check if he is losing weigh tot adding.
He has always thought that his body was normal, just like it's drawn in his textbooks, when studying anatomy. Clinically. Precise, and a meat suit that helps him live, breathe, and exist in matter form on this plane.
Not tonight.
