“Some attachments are formed so deeply that even distance fails to weaken them.”

The clinical white light of the restroom flickered to life as Anamta stepped inside, moving with the heavy, hollow gait of a ghost. Her fingers trembled against the handle. She didn’t bother undressing. She just stood there as the shower erupted, a sudden deluge of ice-cold water crashing over her head and soaking through her clothes until the fabric clung to her like a suffocating second skin.