Phelia hums as she plugs the tub. It’s the first time she’s alone in the house.
She pours epsom salt in the bath and runs the water.
Phelia hears the whispering as she lights the candles. It comes from the tub. She turns; it’s the trickling water.
The way it burbles sounds like murmuring.
If she increases the stream it will stop.
As she nears, it sounds like individual voices.
She sits, leans closer to the faucet to make out what is being said.
Her roommate finds her dead in the bathtub.
Her robe, dry. The tub, unplugged.