"Do you know where the... powderoom is, sire?" ::::::::::::::::: says, all fancy-like. Well, to be honest 

Sire? me? 

I got two reasons why that's untrue. 

First, we allow one of them on the boat, now she's talking to me? Good god. 

"Powderoom. What the hell is a powderoom." I continue mopping the floor, swishing the mop back and forth forcefully. Suds splay out each time I dip the mop back into the bucket. Maybe I might've put too much water in. 

"S'over there, lady." Dal says, gesturing to the washroom as he shoots me a look from where he scrubs next to me. Wait, it's Dal we're talking about. Dal doesn't sweep, he dances. It's so rythymic he could be listening. He's much more delicate and graceful than me. An ex-princess. 

Yeah, you got that right. I was a princess. A real fancy one, too. Dresses, and all that. 

Gi-ppeum

He lies sleeping next to you, hair messy, body relaxed. You watch the slow rise and fall of his chest, counting the beats in between. Dust settles in the air and you watch it drizzling through the glimmer of white light that shines through the blinds. You want to reach out and touch him but you stop mid-movement. Instead, you touch him with your eyes. Cheeks, nose, collarbone, lips. The air around him tastes like summer. You want to drown in it.