Clean Hands Dirty Hearts

Summary

My girlfriend was a severe germophobe.

Because of this, throughout our three years together, I never touched cologne, threw away all my scented skincare, and stripped the bed to wash the sheets every single day.

Yet, whenever Joyce looked at me, her eyes remained as cold and clinical as if she were inspecting a stain.

Then came the storm.

The power went out, the elevator stalled, and we were trapped in a metal box for two suffocating hours. My asthma flared. I collapsed onto the floor, my chest heaving as I trembled, desperately clawing at the hem of her trousers.