I had just returned from traveling, exhausted and grateful to be home, when a long, hot shower felt like the only way to reset. Stepping out, towel clinging to my skin and mirror fogged over, I spotted it: a tiny, pale lump near the drain, with a single dark point jutting out like a buried fang. It didn’t move, but that somehow made it worse. I hovered, frozen between disgust and dread, watching for the slightest twitch that would confirm my fear.
Curiosity finally pushed me forward. With a tissue shield between us, I lifted it onto the counter and studied it from every angle, my mind racing through wild possibilities. For nearly an hour I paced and theorized, building an entire horror story around that little shape. Only when I leaned in close enough did reality snap back into place: a stray scrap of food, pierced by one lonely cleaning-brush bristle. Nothing dangerous at all—just a quiet, humbling lesson in how quickly the mind can turn the smallest unknown into a monster.
