Dear Alice,
An old West Virginia motel bathtub fills again with truths and warm water. All alone, the truths flow out of me even easier. I dictate to the hot knob and the cold the details of my strengths and the particulars of my failings. The knobs listen for a time and then grant me absolution, understanding and encouragement. I lie here, looking around this bathroom, watching for the other women who have lain here, watching the water flowing over their feet. I feel the hundreds of sins and thousands of virtues in the warm eddies. I open the drain and reach for a towel.
-Katherine, Beckley, West Virginia