Risa Horowitz


Writing

Very Short Stories

The Toilet

I. and I meet up for the first time. We plan a Korean meal out, I'm late. The traffic in this city is ridiculous. I honk as I drive by, mouth an apology, park the car. He's handsome, has good hair. He's a filmmaker. We inhabit different milieu, though I wouldn't try to articulate just how. We talk about food, filmmaking, editing video. When we are done I excuse myself to the bathroom, and when I return he's already paid. Didn't wait long enough for me to offer my share; I sense he's annoyed, thinking I went to the toilet to get out of it. I didn't. We walk, get coffee, walk and talk some more. Any mutual interest has waned. We begin to part ways, I offer him a ride. In the car, I realize I need to use the toilet again. It's a long drive. I ask if it's ok, and he says no, his roommate tenant is weird. I ask: why on earth, in the home you own, he'd allow his roommate to dictate the hospitality he might show towards a girl. When I drop him off, he says: I'll call you next week. I say: sure.


Updated August 2022 | Acknowledgements | Copyright ©1998-2022 Risa Horowitz