stalling

The bathroom stalls were covered in a plastic laminate, textured to look like granite. Though the surfaces were modeled to look like something hard and tough, they were practically in shambles. There was a solid, operating door in front of me, but the partition to my left was missing – nothing left but rusted screws and hinges covered in mdf dust.

I could chat with and smell anyone who chose to drop their feces there.

People I had never met keep peeking in, interrupting my focus. “Are you going to come out soon?” “You should really speak. How long are you going to be in there?” “Is everything ok? People are asking for you.”

Someone else was already speaking. It was Daniel’s best friend. He was sharing the story of how Daniel and I met, spending more time on the day Daniel introduced me to his friends and how flabbergasted they were that he managed to capture a young and willing human being.

Daniel and I were engaged and this was some type of announcement dinner – about a month before it would actually happen. I didn’t remember Daniel ever proposing or me saying yes. Heck, I hadn’t even seen him in over 8 years.

I sat in the stall, trying to decide the best moment to cancel the wedding. I could do it now – why wait? But everyone was here and in such a good mood. I could do it in private, just the two of us – but I don’t think we had ever had a private moment before. What an awkward first. I could call him or text him, but then I remembered that I didn’t have his phone number.

No decision was made. I never left the stall.

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