Closing Time

The door slides shut.

Finally.

I let my shoulders hit the metal rail,

a dull clank that vibrates in my teeth.

I look at a greasy smudge on the panel,

a fingerprint left by someone else

who probably felt this tired.

I drop my chin to my chest.

I don't have to keep the mask straight

between the fourth floor and the lobby.

I just breathe the stale air

and wait for the bell to tell me to be a person again.