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SHE’D KEPT THE solitary cabinet-style window closed to trap the steam as a form of therapy and even with the water now off the fog was persistent. The time between drips extended until there were no more and she stepped from the corner stall, passing the folded towels and her discarded clothes crumpled on the floor by the door. The mirror above the vanity was hazy, obscuring her reflection until a good swipe with her hand revealed herself. A film on the frosted window tinted the incoming light to a diffuse pale blue, bright enough for seeing her naked body, cool enough to make her look half-dead, and oblique enough to create strange shadows that shifted across her skin every time she moved. Despite the hotel’s fabulous interior design, the suite’s bathroom was a masterclass in poor planning and she concluded a woman hadn’t been consulted even once before the blueprints were approved. Taken from part one of “Superposition” Book Two of “The Seeker”