Public Bathroom Horror Story
Fiction by Angell Roulez
The Toilette (La toilette) by Edouard Manet, Courtesy National Gallery of Art, Washington
My knees are bent at a 135° angle as I hover above the toilet seat. I refuse to move too conspicuously, careful not to trigger the automatic toilet’s sensor. But I lose focus, staring at the pink graffiti on the stall door that reads: All men want is one thing. I tilt my head to read it, and nod in subtle agreement, pursing my lips. This distraction has caused my 135° knee-bend to move down to 120°. A drop of sweat beads down my forehead at my carelessness. I quickly correct myself back upwards...but it’s too late. My bare butt has already drawn the attention of the red light behind the toilet. The worst sound I could ever possibly hear floods my ears: a heavy flush. My eyes widen. My heart beats fast. I spring forward, La Vie en Rose branded around my thighs, in an attempt to avoid the dirty shared public water particles before they dance in the air beneath me. But I know I’ve lost this battle. I have lost it until 5 p.m., when I can finally get home and take the hottest shower known to man.
Angell Roulez is a Creative Writing undergraduate student at Concordia University. Passionate about encouraging self-expression, she explores life’s not-so-fun happenings through a witty, approachable lens. Her work weaves together themes of femininity, radical transparency and a close observation of everyday moments.