There is a light hum hanging over my head as I enter, in the atmosphere hangs a stagnant air that hasn’t moved since the last person came through. My eyes adjust to the new glare coming from above and reflecting in what stretches out in front of me. My fingertips grasp the threaded material and flex to become tight and pull up from my body, releasing slowly there is now a tightness in my forearms and slight uncomfortable feeling that leaves quite quickly.
The humming coming from above continues and is followed by the cool touch felt in my fingertips to my palm. Slowly my hand brings the cool object closer to my right and the humming noise is gone as the rush of streaming liquid overtakes the room. A slight echo flows through the space as the small room absorbs the loud sound. My hands come together; they experience the feel of each other’s counterpart while the liquid slowly and peacefully flows over each. The sound of pinging is heard on the hard surface below to which the liquid falls onto. My hands slowly retreat from the coolness to receive a drop of opaque gel to my left and the liquid runs down no longer loudly falling onto the surface below, but gently reaching it in a steady stream.
My hands clasp the gel in my palms and suddenly the slight smell of citrus and berry fill-up my nostrils. My hands connect into each other and become slick and smooth. My fingers continue to intertwine as small bubbles begin to invade the surface of my hands and a slight tickling feeling encompasses my touch. The liquid in front of me continues its stream hitting the bottom, but the sound is no longer as pressing and has been overtaken by the feeling in my hands as they continue fold into each other and the bubbles become more numerous. The slight squishing of small bubbles popping between my hands is now becoming louder as the friction increases and my hands become more slippery and the aroma fills the room.
Slowly my hands retreat to the cool streaming liquid and immediately my touch is heightened as the gel flows from my hands and my touch tries to adjust to the cool temperature. Ever so slightly my hands begin to turn red. The sound of crashing, thrashing impact resumes as the liquid hits the bottom and my hands try their best to scrub away all the bubbles. Soon enough the cold is too much to handle and my hand reaches for the cold metal handle. Suddenly the room returns to its quiet state as the stream of liquid stops and only the slight hum and dripping from my fingertips onto the hard surface below is heard.
My activity – washing my hands