Why is it always me? What have I done? What does he think I have done? I’m just sitting here.
He’s watching me. He’s sitting behind me, legs apart, elbows and knees touching. His chin rests upon his left hand in support. His knuckles rough and sore accompanied by dirt under his finger nails. It is 7 am yet he has a 6 o’clock shadow, his lips dry and his noise big and pointy. And his eyes…
What do I do? He knows that I know that he knows? But what does he know? I knew I should never have looked at him for so long; of course our eyes would meet. What should I do? Should I run? He’ll definitely think I’m hiding something then. I can’t stay here any longer.
Ok, ok, one more glance and then I’ll decide. His beady, dark brown eyes watching me still. Get up slowly and walk away. It’s easy. One step, two step, three…Counting definitely made this easier…
Squeaking… He’s following me. Girl’s bathroom! He can’t go in there…I think I’ve lost him now. It feels like I’ve been running for ages. Salty beads of sweat unhurriedly dripping down from my forehead. Finally, safety. He won’t find me here. And as that one bead dropped from my head, I felt the sound of it crashing to the floor echoed throughout the bathroom stalls.
Who is that? A girl, blond, long nails, checked shirt. Who is she? And why is she standing alone in the corner? One glance at me and she put her head down into her blackberry and resumed texting.
It’s a trap!
This must be, no this is his girlfriend. It’s a conspiracy. Pretend you don’t know. She didn’t really see you looking at her. Smile and go into that cubicle.
Ugh! The loud, sharp sound of the door locking is heart breaking. I’m trapped!