A Seat Near Toilet
By: Morrhua Hilar
Tags: Thoughts, Short Story, Conversations

“Who cares if you are angry? Who cares what you feel? This is an office and you are supposed to be professional.”

These were the first lines I heard on my first day at the new workplace. They were not said to me, but I overheard this conversation while I was on my seat, engrossed in my mandatory but irrelevant trainings.

My new seat was near the common washroom and was the most happening place I had in my 10 years of career at different organizations. All sorts of people passed through my desk at least once a day, others more often. I thought it would be distracting for me to sit near a place with relentless traffic, but over the time, it became a thing to pass time. Whenever I was engrossed in work, my mind blocked the crowd entirely. Whenever I got bored, I could hear people laugh, cry, share secrets, walking out holding hands and so many things I could never have imagined to be happening near a toilet.

“I am going to resign tomorrow. Have got everything in place, right where I required it to be. This is the best day of my life.”

I heard this over, right at my seat. Someone was talking on the phone hiding in the passage of the toilet. It was evident the person was very happy but the only person he could share his happiness was not with him. But somehow, I felt, I was there, to be a part of the happiness he had, to be a part of the joy he was overflowing of. I feel feelings are contagious. You see a happy face, you have a happy day. Maybe not the happiest day but you definitely will have a happy moment. You see a sad face and lo!, you just missed a heartbeat. Washroom is an intimate space in its own. It’s the one place where you have your privacy, where you can be your own, whatever you are. The walk down the washroom also is a priced journey. You don’t take a walk to the washroom with any random person. You usually go alone, or you get your closest friend to have a moment, whatever it might be, I leave it to your imagination. In my opinion, it even intimate than meeting at a coffee shop. I have witnessed cribbing, complaints, compliments, match-ups and breakups finalized near the washroom, that’s how precious this place is, except for the obvious reasons.

Tik-Tok, Tik-Tok, Tik,-Tok…

As I said, I don’t spend 8.5hrs of my workhours on work, per-say. Writing is my work anyways, so I do get some liberties in the name of artist’s whim. But I sometimes, even when deeply focused on my computer screen, I hear a familiar footfall and I look up to see a familiar face. Not entirely familiar cause we never spoke, but we both know each other from months of passing glances. I smile unknowingly and on that stern face broke a gentle smile, short but sweet. She had passed from my desk so many times in the past, but this time she makes a small stop. Hesitant, a little involuntary maybe. It was just a few seconds, but sure felt like ages of confusion and shyness. I wanted to help out, but I was restrained myself. Afterall, i knew I couldn’t have a unbiased reaction if I spoke. I knew about her, but I wasn’t supposed to. I was a part of her moments, unknown to her, unauthorized but not illegal.