"Dishwater? It was karma, I was pouring greasy old dishwater on my ownburning hair.While he ran off for colder water, I looked down at myself. My stom...chwas much smaller, that was good. No more padding, okay. My nails werepink, how had that happened? We hadn't even painted them. I didn't showthe scars of their clumsy shaving of my legs and arms either, they werejust smooth and sleek."Here you go, sorry," he said. I'll call him "he" because it is tooconfusing to say "I".Aaah, lots of cold water. Lucky there was a lift so he could help me to our floor. In the lift my wife had rested her head on his shoulders and when we got to our landing I thanked him. He insisted on helping me get her back to my room. I opened the door and thanked him once again, this time he looked at me and asked to come in. This was a bit of a shock. Not sure what he implied but I said yes please help. We walked my wife into the room and layer her face down on the bed. Thanks mate I said again, he then asked if I. More

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