Wet Anachronism, Crying In The Shower Options

[xXYouMeBedNowXx]

Quite a coincidence. I came out of the shower just a while ago. Coincidentally, even if contrary to my Fatalist belief, I came out all red. All red. Red shirt, red shorts -- but most importantly, a red face. It's incomprehensible to distinguish between the water coming out of the showerhead, and those coming from what it should be hitting. But nonetheless, both tears and those fluids both go down the drain, swirling, in en-masse; both substances with a purpose destined to cleanse and to reborne its hosts: of the dirt and the grime they possess -- and sometimes their undying sorrow. Shedding tears in the shower is a unique experience. You feel as if the water around you isn't water at all, but instead the tears that you see going down the drain, coming back out and falling at your crouched body and onto your head, cold or warm of the preference, ready to drown you in your deviated strain. You're in there in a contracted cubicle, letting it happen, naked. Exposed. You cover your face even when you know that no one can get through the locked door, and your sobs are masked by the batter of your artificial tears. A unique experience. One of the loneliest feelings in the world.

[*mipadi*]

Where does the "anachronism" in the title come into play?