Still Waters

Water stood trapped in the white porcelain basin. I descended the dark hallway, drawn by the faint sound of a slow drip. I scaled the base of the cabinet, hauling my mass onto the cold, curved rim. Below lay a glassy basin. Clear. Deep. Silent. I paused and lowered one claw into the surface. Concentric ripples pushed across the calm expanse, shattering the reflection of the overhead glow. I pressed my palm flat against the chilled water, letting the density push back against my skin. It holds ground. Satisfactory.