The room was hot. The bright flourescent lights created sharp, cold shadows.
There was a rumbling sound, from a motor somewhere afar.
The walls were painted a putrid yellow-green, reminicent of bargain paint bins.
There were many ink scribbles and poorly drawn images on the walls.
I read a few, and chuckled at the mildly funny, sex-themed poems.
So, why was I sitting here- for hours, pants down, in a public washroom?
Well, it was not just any cubicle. It has been my "home away from it all"
for the past three weeks.

Weird?
Maybe so.
But, true.