Dawn Greets You to Make You Clean

The water runs cold over your wrists as you scrub, trying to wash away the smell of the fire that kept you awake. You are afraid that if you step out of this bathroom, someone will hug you and smell the lie on your skin.

But the morning light is already slipping under the door, silent and unhurried. It does not recoil from the smoke.

It does not hold its breath. It simply fills the room, touching the steam, the tile, and your wet hands with the same gentle gold.

The dawn does not ask you to be clean before it greets you. It greets you to make you clean.

You do not need to hide the night from the day. The sun rises on the smoke and the scent alike, and it calls both of them good.