Alpha Rylan
I look away before I can make myself sick, instead concentrating on the wonder of this bathroom.
Why does everything have to be so technologically advanced?
Shedding my bedclothes, I slide the glass of the shower door open, watching it fold back magically. There are three showerheads, which is a bizarre concept, as they seem to be controlled with one temperature gage. As I step under the satiny soft curtain of water, I feel my muscles relax.
By the time I'm finished, I've washed my hair and my entire body with this jasmine scented soap and shampoo, which I delight in. My headache may refuse to cease, but at least I don't smell like Rylan anymore. I won't be so distracted.
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