This Is It, Every Time.

I take a deep breath, tuck my chin down, open the door and slip quickly inside.

I hope nobody is in there; I hope nobody comes in.  I glance around anxiously.

The anxiety fills my already full insides.  I hate this feeling.

Maybe this was a mistake.  Maybe I should have just waited.

I feel my breathing change as my heart beats faster.

Hurry.  Hurry up.

I duck into the first available stall and quickly close the door behind me.

I hope nobody comes in.

Hurry.

I rush to relieve myself.  To conduct this necessary biological function that ought not be so nerve-wracking and fill me with fear.

I hear the door open.  The sound of shoes walking across the floor.

I hold my breath for a second, as if the very cessation of breathing will disappear this threat.

I haven’t even seen this person but I fear them.  My fear feels almost like an anger that they have entered this space.

What should I do?

I remain in the stall, barely breathing, paralyzed.

Hurry up.  Not me, I’m done.  Hurry up stranger with the blue shoes.

I wait.  I hope nobody else comes in.

The sound of a toilet flushing brings a moment of relief.

Blue shoes who I fear and therefore do not like despite knowing nothing of her beyond her intruding ankles walks past my stall and to the sink.

The sound of water.

A little more relief.

I hope nobody else comes in.  I ready my escape.

The sound of water shutting off.  Paper towels being pulled from the machine.  Shoes across the floor.  Door opening.

This is it, I have to make a run for it now.

This is it, this is what using a public restroom is like for me.

This is it, every time.

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