Truly Grayte sat in her avocado-tinted fiberglass bathtub as the hot water grew cold and the high hills of snowy bubbles diminished into a thin, soapy scum. She could not take her mind off the sailor, and her mind was far, far away. Come to think of it, so was he. The sailor. Coincidence? I don't think so. The cooling of the waters around her eventually caused her to begin puckering in several sensitive spots and brought her attention slowly back to the present. She guessed it was time to get out of the bath, and had just raised one perfect leg out of the drippy soap scum in order to do so when the sound of a loud explosion came through the bathroom window with a silver spoon in its mouth.