“Lavatory Haunts” by Mary Beth Asaro

The evening smells
like ivory soap
and orange VO5
in the bathroom.
A waterfall runs in the tub
crashing against the enclosed
façade as I turn to gather my garments.

A splash from the keg
makes me turn to see
my cat drenched as a wet rag
shaking the raindrops
out of her. She gazes
back at the murky liquid.
I cackle at the spectacle
while she trots off.

I miss her now
with each breaking dawn
reflecting as I wander
pass the lavatory.
A glimmer of soaked fur
shriveling in the sombered
room evaporates in a blink
of an eye.