Pink

I hear it shatter & its smell slams against my nose standing in the long bathroom line before I see it:

A broken bottle of bright pink opi nail polish on the bathroom floor

The door opens to me & I feel like I’ve won the golden ticket.

Apologies spill out of the stall, heels tiptoe around neon glass.

I stare & stare & stare at the bright pink gloss splattered over microbes, dirt, bacteria, tile, urine.

Beautiful.

I don’t want to leave the stall. I stay longer than I should- there’s an understanding about how long a girl can stay in a public stall if she’s not changing clothes.

I want to take the floor with me but it’s not mine.

I unlatch the lock & give the next gal in the bathroom line a giant smile.

She wrinkles her nose at the pungent smell, then her eyebrows wrinkle at me.

I smile again. “Look!”

I hope she sees. I hope I’m not the only one- it’s lonely.

I close my eyes to freeze time. This is the smell. This is pink.