Bathroom.
Good hiding place.
Creep into a stall. Shivering. Breathing hard, hold
breath, lift feet. Shivering like a fetus, curled like a fetus,
helpless like a fetus. Like back in the sac, a ball of tiny
bones and jelly. Sweat everywhere.
Damn this human flesh, these pores, this stink. They all stink.
Bathroom door screeches open.
Can he smell me? Does he know?
The man in dark glasses, dark suit, and dark shoes.
Black, glistening shoes gliding along the tile toward my stall.
Heels smacking on tile. Clip-clap. Clip-clap.
Stops. Turns. Curses to himself. Leaves.
Door slams shut.
Gasp for breath. Need to wash up.
Hurry to faucet. Look in mirror. Can’t go out
like this.
Big flap of flesh, broken during chase, sagging off skull.
Real skin visible, line of silver flesh glowing. Stitch it
up. Stitch it up to blend in, hide from those dark-suited
men.
Safe now.
