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25.
Germs are everywhere. There are likely more on my hands. My saliva is made to kill germs. I am fine. This is fine. This is “normal”. Missing my routine doesn’t have to ruin my day. I am awake. I am safe. I am okay. I kept chanting those words as I swiped the brush back and forth in my mouth. Brush. Floss. Rinse. Brush. Floss. Rinse. Brush. Floss. Rinse. Thrice. I've done that thrice already. Seven. That number soothes me, so I just continue until I have repeated the three steps seven complete cycles. I cannot seem to settle, still. Can't seem to handle the growing panic in my chest. Am I worried about the texture, the germs, the newness, or possibly what this means moving forward? No idea. This should be enough to get rid of the concerns surrounding last night's kiss right? I mean,
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