i know that you’re hygenic.

i hear you carefully wash your hands, and dry them with the automatic hand-dryer. you did take a while peeing—i know it was pee, because i heard it pour into the water. i heard all of this through the thin wooden door, and the negligible inches of open air directly above and below it. you took a while so it wasn’t sloppy. hopefully you managed to avoid splashing your waste along the rim of the seat, or around the edges of the toilet. i wonder briefly if you had squatted, or actually took the risk of sitting down.

regardless of your meticulous rituals, you leave with your eyes turned downwards and shuffle past me most apologetically. you know i’m going in after you and that i’ll mentally hold you accountable for anything i come in contact with.