The Morning S's

They wait in the bathroom every morning. They always know which one.

The first is unpredictable, perched atop its porcelain throne, gut swollen. It maintains a studied blankness, unwilling to reveal whether this episode will be painful, relaxing, or mundane.

The second is friendlier, clinging to the wall, with taut chipmunk-cheeks. Usually soothing, it is nonetheless fond of pranks and may at any moment spew ice rather than steam. It bears watching.

The last is vicious. It grins a razorblade smile and promises smooth-skinned beauty. It licks its lips, thinking of precious ruby red droplets.

They will see you tomorrow.