Face Wash at 3 AM

A bathroom, in a small apartment, at three in the morning. The bathroom light is, by the standards of the rest of the apartment, unkind. The bathroom is, by the standards of the rest of the apartment, small. The bathroom contains, by the standards of the rest of the apartment, a single small window, which is, at three in the morning, dark.

The bathroom contains, by the standards of the rest of the apartment, a sink, a mirror, a small candle on the windowsill. The candle has, by the standards of the bathroom, a particular smell. The candle smells, by the standards of the candle, of nothing in particular.

The bathroom is, at three in the morning, occupied by a woman. The woman is, at three in the morning, not sleeping. The woman has, by three in the morning, been not sleeping since eleven.

The night

The night began, by the woman's own description, at eleven. The night began with the woman getting into bed. The night began with the woman closing her eyes. The night began with the woman trying, in the way one tries, to fall asleep.

The night did not, by three in the morning, include falling asleep. The night included, instead, the following things: tea, at half past eleven. A book, at midnight. A podcast, at half past twelve. The same book, again, at one. A glass of water, at two. The bathroom door, opened twice, between two and three, and the bathroom light, turned on twice.

The woman has, in the course of the woman's adult life, had nights like this before. The woman has, in the course of the woman's adult life, had nights like this on most Tuesdays, and on most Wednesdays, and on occasional weekends.

The bathroom

The bathroom door was closed, very quietly, at three. The bathroom light was turned on, at three. The bathroom mirror was, at three, the only mirror in the apartment that was lit.

The mirror was, at three, the mirror of a person who had given up on the evening. The mirror was, at three, the mirror of a person who had not slept, who had, in the past four hours, looked at the ceiling, listened to a partner breathe, and tried, repeatedly, to fall asleep.

The mirror was, at three, a mirror. The mirror showed, at three, a face. The face was, at three, a face that had not slept.

The face

The face, at three in the morning, was a face that had not slept.

The face had, at three, small lines that the face did not, in the daytime, show. The face had, at three, circles under the eyes that the face had, in the daytime, concealed. The face had, at three, a small red mark, on the chin, that the face had not, in the daytime, noticed. The face had, at three, on the upper lip, the faint shadow of a thing the face had been told, when the face was younger, the face would eventually have.

The face looked, at three, like a face.

The face did not, at three, look like the face the face had been trying, in the daytime, to be.

The wash

The water was run, at three. The water was warm, not hot. The water was, by the standards of the bathroom, run for ten seconds.

A small amount of cleanser was placed, by the woman, on the woman's hands. The cleanser was pressed, by the woman, onto the woman's face. The cleanser was pressed onto the cheeks. The cleanser was pressed onto the forehead. The cleanser was pressed onto the place below the jaw.

The cleanser was not rubbed. The cleanser was pressed. The cleanser was pressed, by the woman, the way the woman's mother presses her face cream.

The cleanser was washed off. The face was dried, by the woman, with a towel. The face looked, by the time the woman was done, like a face that had just been washed.

What was felt

A small feeling, in the moment of the wash, was present. The feeling was not, by any clinical description, a feeling of significant emotion. The feeling was, by any clinical description, a feeling of being a person who was doing something.

The woman had been, for the previous four hours, a person who was not doing anything. The woman had been a person who was lying in bed. The woman had been a person who was looking at the ceiling. The woman had been a person who was, in the most literal sense, not going anywhere.

The wash was, by no clinical description, going anywhere. The wash was, by the same description, doing something. The woman was, by the same description, standing up. The woman was, by the same description, in the bathroom. The woman was, by the same description, performing, on the woman's own face, a small ritual.

The ritual had, by the same description, been performed, by the woman, on most days, for twenty-five years. The ritual had, by the same description, been performed, by the woman's mother, on most days, for forty years. The ritual had, by the same description, been performed, by the woman's mother's mother, on most days, for an unknown number of years.

Other nights

The woman has, in the course of the woman's life, washed the face at three in the morning, on a number of occasions.

The face has been washed at three in the morning, on nights the woman has been, for one reason or another, unable to sleep. The face has been washed at three in the morning, on nights the woman has been crying. The face has been washed at three in the morning, on nights the woman has come home from a dinner the woman did not, in any obvious way, want to attend.

The face has been washed at three in the morning, in the last two years, on nights the woman has been writing. The writing is, by the woman's own description, mostly finished by one. The writing is, by the woman's own description, occasionally not finished until three.

When the writing is not finished until three, the face is washed. The face wash is, by the woman's own description, the period at the end of the sentence.

What is practiced

Face-washing is, by the woman's own description, a skill.

The skill is, by the same description, not, in any obvious way, a hard skill. The skill does not require equipment, in the way other skills require equipment. The skill does not require training, in the way other skills require training. The skill requires only water, and a cleanser, and a towel, and the willingness to stand in front of a mirror, at a particular hour of the day, and do something that is, by the woman's own description, mostly the same thing the woman did yesterday.

The skill is, however, a skill the woman has, in the years the woman has been practicing it, gotten better at. The woman has gotten better at the pressing. The woman has gotten better at the temperature of the water. The woman has gotten better at the small amount of time the woman spends, after the woman is done, looking at the woman in the mirror.

The three-in-the-morning version of the skill is, by the woman's own description, the harder version. The three-in-the-morning version requires a particular kind of attention — to the water, to the face, to the fact of being awake — that the morning version does not require.

The woman is, this Tuesday, or this Wednesday, in the bathroom, at three in the morning. The mirror is, this Tuesday, or this Wednesday, lit. The face is, this Tuesday, or this Wednesday, being washed.

The mirror is, in a moment, going to be clear.