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.
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DP FICTION #120B: “In His Image” by R. Haven
5 days ago
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