<strong>Day Two-Drying out.</strong><br/><br/>Irene blinked at the man, hearing his words of concern.  She tried to get her breathing back to normal but her heart was jerking around against her ribs so hard she could hardly think.<br/><br/>Was she crying? She wondered as her breathing came in ragged inhales and long exhales.  She licked her lips and nodded once, sharply at the man’s question.<br/><br/>She stood up and carefully eased out of the tub, picking up a towel and rubbing her hair.  She stared at the man, handing him a towel from her fully outstretched arm.<br/><br/>“I never washed your feet,” she said suddenly.  Irene wrapped the towel around her body and tucked it into itself under her arm.  “Just...uh...Have a seat.”  She looked around the bath room, wondering where the sponge was and then seeing it in the corner, wondering how it had gotten there.<br/><br/>Irene shuffled over and picked up the sponge, listing into the wall, but catching herself before completely toppling over.  There were diamonds dancing about her head and she felt sort of drunk.<br/><br/>“Sit down, Sam,” she said with the studious intensity of a drunk, though she was pretty sure she was over the breakfast brandy.  “I didn’t back your wash, either,” she said.  Something wasn’t right.  Her brain was malfunctioning.  “I mean I didn’t wash your goddamned back!” she said with an angry stomp of one foot.<br/><br/>“Quit looking at me with those eyes,” she said.  “I’m fine.”  Her hand strayed down to press the towel between her legs and she gasped at the still sensitive area.  She glared at the man.  “Do you want your back scrubbed or not?”<br/>