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​It’s a rainy day. You’re driving on whatever road you’re driving on, and  you park your car at your house—but not inside the garage, only because the garage isn’t working. You walk through the door to your wife or husband, or your husband to another husband, or a wife to another wife, and you’re beat; you just wanna relax. As soon as you walk in the door, they say the dish receiver hasn’t been loading any of the channels, which means the night’s prerecorded  Jeopardy  game or  Big Brother  has been compromised—just another item to add to the list.

 

You slip off into the shower. Once you’re in, for some reason, you lie down and let the water run over your body, and you close your eyes. Now you’re somewhere else for a time, but your time stands where it can be created, destroyed, or adapted into something else, so as you drift off into this other world your body shakes violently telling you to wake up and that it isn't safe to stay and that's when you continue your shower, jump out, and tend to everything else.​

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the next day when you're at work you overhear a person that eats bologna and cheese sandwiches talk about how they take long showers and can't seem to understand why some people take cold ones, and you think to yourself "Why is this person talking about this?" that's when your boss comes up to you and says something about how the other people on your team are "disappointed in your collaboration" on A project that is due next Friday. but whenever he said "next Friday", you realize that you're going out of town to see your brother in-law's pool ball tournament so you mention that the delivery of the project will need to be delayed; the concerns of your job's wellbeing is all that you think about as you drive home.

 

It’s still raining. As you park, You realize jamming your thumb into the garage-door button multiple times isn't gonna be the reason the garage door opens. As you step into the house, Your significant other is nowhere to be found, and the first thing you do is head to the bathroom and into the tub. While you’re in the tub, your body resists and shakes all over. It isn’t working this time, so you wash up the best you can with the watery soap that they have been saying for days they'd replace - but still haven't. As you finish up, it occurs to you: maybe that's where they are - at the store.

 

This doesn’t bother you, only because they make these errand runs quite frequently. When they come back without any soap, they begin to talk about their day as you begin to talk about yours. As the night progresses, You can’t help but shake the question of “where's the soap?” off your mind. Eventually, You decide to sleep it off, because that’s what Dad would do.

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As you drift off to sleep, in your bed, in your soft sheets—your soft, silk sheets—with a garage down below you unable to open, a shaky career, no jeopardy, Love Island, or Big Brother - everything throughout the last few days begins to pile up.

 

You pace around the kitchen as you dissected that sleeping it off won’t work, only because you knew Mom had been sleeping it off with another person while Dad didn’t want to know the answers. But you do.

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You begin thinking about the other day in the shower and how oddly erotic it felt; almost illegal - it didn't have anything to do with soap, but for some reason, and you can't explain it; you really wanna know why they didn't bring back the soap.

 

And that’s how you entered into A…