In a world where everyone faces the ground, I took a chance and looked up and saw this very ironic sign. I snickered to myself and stole a picture, clearly not receiving the intended message of limiting cell-phone distraction. And yet again disregarding the message by posting this using the LTE network that every place has even if they don't have Wi-Fi; including Fred's Mexican Cantina on Main St. I consider myself a pretty self aware gal and I don't know if by saying that I completely discredit myself or how all of that shit works but I think that I have a pretty good grasp on reality and interpersonal connection as a young lady of many words.
From the dim under the bathroom door she could only be certain of one thing. The tangerine light. She curled in the corner of that bathroom every night, ready. Ready for what, she wasn’t sure. But she curled her hands into balls and sat on them and waited, knowing the one thing she was sure about the tangerine lights. The only essence of color that wiggled its way into that bathroom, splashing all over the tile floor. She was shivering. The tile looked warm from the light but was cold and uninviting, hostile to the touch. The closer she moved toward the door the more of her exposed skin brushed the tile, raising the hairs on her neck.
Hold your breath. Like actually do it. Keep holding your breath until I tell you everything I have to say because I want you for one second to feel the way that I feel.