The Public Toilet

The Public Toilet 

It had been a long day, aimless wandering and soul crushing window shopping had littered my time, filling in a cold collection of hours known as the afternoon. I opened the door of a public toilet to a fecal disposition that echoed around until it  settled in my nose. The long walk to the last cubicle was hesitant yet desperate, as these toilets had a stench found in someones grave. I gently pushed the door to find a castle of a toilet, its moat gracefully filled with piss, a structured draw bridge of cheap toilet roll and colourless chewing gum acting as the guards. As I stepped nearer the toilet, my balanced was tested further, avoiding early morning urine and other bits of waste. My time in the cubicle had come to an abrupt end as i zipped up my jeans and left. The walk out seemed a lot shorter than the  walk in, although the washing of hands and deep reflection was still to show its presence. As i stared into a filthy mirror i had a compelling thought of how many faces this mirror had witnessed. From the busy working businessman on the phone to a bored colleague, to the freezing evening dusty face of a recovering heroin addict, this mirror had acted has a listener, a visual reply and a reassuring answer. After drying the cold water from my hands i made my way to the exit of the toilets. The stench that had gripped me and said hello was still lingering in my nose, a caged aroma of charity shop trauma, piss and a putrid whiff of sofa sweat was yet to fade away as it had crawled into my senses. The aftertaste of the public toilet, is the worst aftertaste of all, one that could ruin your day within 2 minutes, one that has key for the archives of scent, one that tends to go after a while but seems like forever. The public toilet.