dotism

Resounding

Every soap bubble held a sob, which echoed softly against the bathroom ceiling as it burst. Sob after sob resounded there, till at last their accumulated sounds came drifting back down with the pounding water to wrap her body like white feathers. There among the clouds of steam, Salimah's voice rose to a wail.

Iwaki Kei, Farewell, My Orange, translation by Meredith McKinney