A collection of one shots

Scrubbing

Somewhere I read a story saying how the body's cells replenish within some amount of time, to the point where all of the skin on my body will be new. And it mentioned how wonderful it is to know that someday, there will be a day where I have a body that you have never touched. I can't decide if that's comforting or not.
But for now, I have begun scrubbing myself clean. I went to the store and stared at the cleaning supplies for an hour. I couldn't decide just which one could erase every part of you from my head. Reading labels over and over, staring blankly, I couldn't find an answer.
I came home with a bottle that read "Gets rid of mold and mildew" and "+bleach" underneath. I've heard that bleach is the strongest thing to rid your fingerprints, but I wonder if it's the strongest thing to completely erase every memory from my mind. I've been scrubbing this sink for so long my fingers have turned bright red and my knuckles are aching. I erased the stain where your toothbrush used to stand, and with that, erased the mornings when you'd smile at me, mouth full of toothpaste- giddy to be alive.
The mold and mildew left from tears gone untouched couldn't stand a chance. It's like i'm wiping away every trace of you, erasing the memory of losing you along with them. There's no tears to turn to mold when you never existed at all.
I'm scrubbing the shower and it's taking me too damn long to erase sitting with you in this tub, droplets falling on us, with you kissing my back telling me it's going to be okay. I'm scrubbing and scrubbing but nothing seems to work. This shower is holding too many memories, too many moments with you between these walls. I've drenched the whole tub and i'm walking away, maybe it just needs time, time to soak and slowly take out each bit of grime. Maybe I just need time.