Yesterday I did something unspeakable. I used a public bathroom at Union Station. I avoid doing this when possible because public bathrooms often tend toward the grotty. Bravely in I charged because the situation demanded it.
This particular bathroom featured some old and very open urinals. I don’t generally like to display the goods without seeing the money up front and so I went to one of the stalls.
As long as there’s a modicum of creativity involved, I’m a fan of graffiti. This stall didn't have much to offer apart from the usual mix of bad limericks and poorly rendered drawings of the anatomy of both sexes but then I caught sight of a few simple words printed off to one side that really got me.
I don’t want to be alone anymore.
How sad, I thought. And then I thought, maybe if you didn’t spend all your time alone in a bathroom stall with a marker, you wouldn’t feel so alone, asshole.
It’s All an Act
1 day ago