Thin Walls

The plastic door latched shut,

a flimsy sound.

I could hear the next stall occupant

clearing their throat.

Then a muffled cough,

the splash of water,

the low murmur of a phone call.

We were all in our small boxes,

sharing the same recycled air.

Each sound amplified

by the thin partition,

a weird, unwanted closeness

in the most private place.

Just the hum of the vending machine,

and my own breath, loud.