I stare at the drop of water, hanging from the shower head. It seems to grow and not grow at the same time. It is always that size, whether big or small, it is that size. I don’t see it grow, it was always the size it is at this moment. It stretches, lengthens, distorting the silver rope behind it, then drops into the nothingness below. It becomes part of the whole. Part of the puddle that surrounds my toes. It is now everything below me. No longer an individual. Just consume