Dear Wigleaf,

Greetings from the temperate and shiny comfort of my walk-in shower. This is my favorite place on earth. There is soapy water pooled around the sticky skin of my naked backside. It is always warm in here. My wife and I retire to this marble-lined sanctuary to resolve our most serious conflicts. Speaking of my wife, she is standing before me right now, listening to me read these words out loud as I type them into my phone. A damp postcard from New York City clings to her curved and conic thigh. She scribbles my words onto the postcard with a fine-point felt-tip pen. She has been very interested in calligraphy and letter writing recently. I don't blame her. Her penmanship is exemplary. Each swooping character she creates is a breathtaking work of art. Her letters are a beautiful complement to my love of fonts and typography. My favorite font is Franklin Gothic URW. I whispered this secret into her ear at the end of our first date eighteen years ago, and we have been enamored with each other ever since. Our other great love is the complex geometry of the middle-class residential bathroom. No secrets hide between the glass and tile walls of the damp and echoing chapel of our walk-in shower. This is the one place where we can marinate in the bubbling, unpoisoned truth of our idiosyncratic human experiences. Where we can squat and huff and writhe as the lumpy, hair-dappled creatures we reveal ourselves to be when no sentient being is watching. But what occurs here is between my wife and me alone, so it is time to say goodbye. There is much for us to discuss, and I am eager to begin another thrilling and waterlogged conversation.

Bye now!

Steve G