Futility [girlxgirl]

Bathroom

I enter the bathroom before the cafeteria, where I'm certain she will be.

Just as I walk through the door, the stall swings open. Dazed brown eyes, less so from sleep deprivation, guide her body to the mirrors. On her mocha cheeks are dried rivers, beginning at her lower lash and ending at her sharp jaw. I admire her braids from behind, which begin at the nape of her neck and travel up into puffy ponytails, perfectly mirrored on each side.

Her hands slam onto the sink, reminding me to go into my own stall. My feet kick up and walk into the first open stall, closing and locking the door behind me.

I wonder what's wrong. Aside from her typical glossy, bloodshot eyes and dazey attitude, something is off. There are never tears.

I sit on the toilet with my bare bum, imagining all the people who've sat there as well and scrunch my face a bit.

Elbows on my knees, my hands meet my face again, the soothing warmth and temporary blindness overtaking my figure. I breathe in slowly, with an even slower exhale.

I see her face in 10th grade english, looking back at me for the answers to the vocabulary study guide. I see her reaching over the desk to touch my hand as I begin to doze off in Literature. I see her pushing the bathroom stall open to find me, standing, awaiting, as she approaches, brushes my cheek and touches her mouth to mine.

I open my eyes, and wash it all away. What am I doing?

The bathroom door closes, and I reach for the toilet paper.