You’re brushing your teeth when a moon appears in the part of the mirror where the fog has been wiped away. You turn and gaze at two round loafs of bread pressed against the glass. You raise an eyebrow as your boyfriend bounces his cheeks against the glass. You find it rather mesmerizing. Your boyfriend looks over his shoulder to make sure you’re watching.
You take a step forward and smack the glass where he’s standing. It made a loud noise as your palm connects with the hard surface. To your delight, he jumps anyway, although no contact was made. You chuckle. You spit out your toothpaste foam before you choke on it. You rinse and dry, and when you look over he’s still doing it, only it’s the front this time. His balls look super odd pressed against a flat surface. You make eye contact with the young man through the opaque glass and run your finger in a straight line over where his shaft is, up and down. He begins writing in the condensation with his own finger, but in order to do this he has to be writing backwards. “W A N T Y O U.” He writes. The N is going the wrong way. You press your palm to the cool surface. He presses his.
You smile in resignation. You slip out of your pajamas, open the door, and join him. Not much room in there, but you’re standing close enough together that it doesn’t really matter.
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