I like to take tender photos in the shower

Steam clings to her skin as warm water traces slow paths down her shoulders, catching light in ways that feel almost accidental. The glass fogs at the edges, framing her like something half-remembered.

She tilts her head back, eyes closed, completely unhurried. There's an intimacy here that feels stolen — like you've wandered into a private moment she's chosen, carefully, to share with you.

Wet hair pulls dark against her neck. Her hands rest easy against the tile. Nothing performed, nothing rushed. Just her, the heat, and the particular quiet that lives inside a shower at the right hour.