Who: Faith and Amelia When: Wednesday afternoon-ish Where: Restroom.
She was going to explode. Not literally, because that would be gross, but figuratively speaking. Her brain was bound to turn to goo if she had to read over one more flier before stuffing it into an envelope, sealing it and sticking on a stamp. Checking the address. Setting it aside, reading over the next flier, sealing the envelope. Beginning again.
Her fingers smelled of glue and she was starting to think like them. Words like 'fellow man' and 'altruism' were becoming imprinted on her retinas like tattoos. The kind that needed laser surgery to be removed.
In the absence of something so elaborate, Faith made do with water. Splashing it over her face, she soaked her mascara and her lipstick, feeling the waxy taste all the way to the back of her throat when she swallowed. One more flier and she was going to burst.
One more smiling, fake human picture on the cover and she was going to scream.
Over the rush of the tap, she heard the door slide open. "Out of fucking order," she snapped without looking up. "Can't you read the fucking sign?" And maybe whoever entered couldn't - because there wasn't one. It was clogging up the toilet two stalls down, courtesy of Faith's rage.