You gotta poop. Badly. You go to the public restroom, there’s a person at the counter digging in their bag. They see your face. You can’t leave. That’d be weird. You go into the stall and sit. You now have to, somehow, sit on the toilet and not shit until they leave because the person has seen your face and will know what you did. They take MINUTES.
The end, sorry for the cliffhanger. You now feel like my poop, clinging to the edge.
Fuck that. I will make you regret spending too long in the bathroom. You’re in my world now.
“I’m not stuck in here with you …”
I feel no regrets for anyone that takes a stall next to me and dares to stay on the phone.
They’re gonna know what you’re doing, and you’re going to know what I’m doing. Loudly.