Faraj
“We’re alone, I checked.”
“Did you check under the stalls?”
There was a shuffling noise. I imagined them staring at my stall as if they could sense me here. My throat got dry, I had to cough. My nose itched. My head was feeling light, and I realized that I’d stopped breathing again.
I thought about those men in London, barely older than me. Would they have been squatting here in fear, trapped in a toilet? No, they’d have been brave. They wou...