The Lonely Bathroom
The
Lonely Bathroom
6:00 rolled around on the clock. It was time. The sterile porcelain beckoned her. The lonely bathroom mat would be lying on the floor, waiting for her in the small rectangular room. The toothbrush leaning in the cup on the sink, while in the not-so distant room, the family was serving dinner. Water would be dripping from the faucet sink slowly… drip… drip… …drip. The light pink towels hung on the rack above the toilet paper. The toilet paper, extra soft, rolled so perfectly, so that last square hung over the top of the roll. Her padded feet slowly made their way towards the bathroom. The door opens, but not without the welcoming creak. The mat is no longer lonely, for there is a pair of knees, bowing in front of the toilet. A forced gagging causes a disruption of the silence. Two hands clench the seat; one finger on one hand is covered in saliva. Then quickly she is up, pushing down the silver handle, and brushing herself off. She reaches over the sink to her toothbrush. A monotonous tone fills the room. The swishing is finished, she spits, and then she looks into the mirror. But only for less than a second because even the mirror cannot bear to look at this fat 115 pound girl. Before the creaking door closes, she looks in once more. Her padded feet walk over the mat to the magazine basket next to the toilet. She grabs her Cosmopolitan Magazine and shuts the door quickly behind her.