Friday

The tile was cold through my shoes

but I kept them still.

Not even a shift of weight.

Two pairs of feet below the partition—

one with a scuff on the outer heel,

the other turning slowly at the sink,

already past the part about the open bar.

They said the position went to someone else.

They said it the way you say

a thing you've already decided

isn't really a thing.

I sat on the lid of the toilet

for maybe seventeen more minutes after they left.

I counted the drips from the faucet.

I listened to the hand dryer in the next room

go on. Go quiet.

My feet didn't move the whole time.

That's what I keep coming back to.

How still I kept them.