I step into the bathroom fully dressed.
An orange-yellow layer on the outside, warm like late afternoon light, and underneath it, a blue Nike T-shirt -- familiar, casual, grounding.

Fabric meets skin, soft at first, then slowly changing.
Liquid pours over me, darkening the colors, turning cotton heavier, closer, more honest. I pause. Then I take the scissors. The socks are next -- a simple cut, clean and deliberate. The sound echoes briefly, sharp against the tiles. It feels symbolic, like opening a door rather than breaking one.

Water follows. It runs over fabric, through seams, along lines I already know by heart.
I feel playful, calm, in control -- enjoying how ordinary clothes become something else entirely. This isn't rush. This isn't performance for approval. It's curiosity, texture, contrast.

Orange against blue. Wet fabric against skin. A quiet moment where comfort and boldness meet. I stay with the feeling.