La Muerte en el Indoro

Sometimes you can hear the water. Sometimes its all you can hear, as if you are trapped inside the atmosphere: the single inhabitant of a ceramic planet. It was Gloria and the tardigrades forever in the closest bathroom to C++. Two o’clock was Speech and she could go. And it wouldn’t hurt but she was playing pretend.

Gloria was a software developer, except software developers didn’t go to school. A software developer would have initiative and already know this. They’d have friends and networks and they’d have projects. And they would have done this ten years ago. And they would have been better.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

She cradled herself.

“It’s okay. I don’t need it.”

The voice sounded deep and lyrical. Gloria opened the door. For a moment she couldn’t see anything. Then something, like eyes focusing on rain that was invisible. It wasn’t a rain though, it was a skeleton standing in the front of the only sink. There was a standing skeleton and then there was the chance of being judged for not washing your hands. Gloria stood in line.

“Could you be a dear and turn on the faucet?”

Gloria turned on the faucet. The skeleton managed to push the soap dispenser. As they lathered, their hands became more and more visible. They had long thin fingers and petite palms.

“Am I dead?”

“Well I am anyways.”

“Are you Death?”

“Why would Death have a skeleton? I’m Melissa.”

Gloria felt hair touch her face as Melissa turned to grab a paper towel. They noticed Gloria staring.

“I usually use a 15 second rule. Otherwise staring is definitely rude.”

“Can I get accommodations? I’m only pretty sure I’m not dead.”

“Not ADA applicable. Which is really unfair because I have a lot of accessibility problems. My C++ teacher only barely notices I exists. I’m so behind”

“Do you want to be study partners?”

And this is how you make friends children.

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