At 10:54 on some night of the week, some week in the year, a girl stands in a bathroom line. She was planning on being in her pajamas early tonight; she didn’t think she loved these people. Now, catching a glimpse of her beautiful reflection, she’s in love with a lot of new ideas.
There are two girls ahead of her. She reads the flyers on the bathroom walls. She makes plans in her own head. She remembers a recent fact she probably read in a tweet about desks being cleaner than toilet seats. She knows she has strong quadriceps and makes a point to remember to no longer put her apples on her bare desk. Then, she decides she’d rather not change her apple-placing habits.
She smiles to herself and wonders which way she should wear her shirt. She subtly changes something about her appearance.
There are two other girls in the bathroom. She doesn’t know them. Their conversation alludes to something extremely important. It involves a controversial relationship. Whose relationship, she cannot tell. Maybe they’re talking about a television show. She wonders if they are even friends. They leave, and she’s alone.
Staring at her skin while washing her hands, the world makes sense. There are no more paper towels, so she wipes her hands on her pants without attempting to shake them dry. The wet hand-marks on her pants don’t bother her; she thinks about more immediate – and important – subjects, like the whole new social life she created for herself in the past three minutes.
At 10:54 tonight, I wondered if I’ll ever join a dodgeball team.