The pretty, patterned walls were now gloating at my dismay,
The soothing bag of smelling salts now smelled mocking;
Why, even the toiletries sneered in their matte shells.

I hiss back at them,
And their condescending silence
Greets me with open arms.

How akin to those I was acquainted with they were,
Mere seconds of knowing me and they had already established,
Nay, cemented their roots in those first impressions.

The gaunt aura of the marble tiles whisper many a tale:
'Oh, she's such a lovely girl - such nice, quiet manners,'
'Well, I think otherwise; she lacks tact and proper social skills.'

I clench my jaw,
The urge to lovingly shatter each one of them
Itching my fingers that gripped the seat.

My seat, I had warmed it quite well;
All it needed was its plasticity to disappear
And why, it would be akin to that of a soulless being.

•

maits¹⁵¹.

•