Note Fifty-Three
To: Jacklyn Wuertz From: Cora Roberts
Hey, what did you do last night?
Sent: 9/18 12:35 p.m.
To: Cora Roberts From: Jacklyn Wuertz
I hung out alone. Y?
Sent: 9/18 12:35 p.m.
To: Jacklyn Wuertz From: Cora Roberts
So Robb wasn't with you?
Sent: 9/18 12:39 p.m.
To: Cora Roberts From: Jacklyn Wuertz
No, he went to hang out with friends. He was acting alittle werid.
Sent: 9/18 12:40 p.m.
This was not turning out well.
To: Jacklyn Wuertz To: Cora Roberts
Do you know a Sierra?
Sent: 9/18 12:41 p.m.
To: Cora Roberts From: Jacklyn Wuertz
Yeah! She's cool. We have Spanish together. What is this? The Spanish Inquisition?
Sent: 9/18 12:42 p.m.
I didn't have to reply. Instead, I rested my head against the bathroom door, my bandaged arm resting against the toilet dispenser that I had cut myself against.
I had just gotten into a ton of shit. Was I supposed to tell Jacklyn that her boyfriend of two years had just lied and cheated on her? This door business just seemed more than just a fun thing.
YOU ARE READING
The Bathroom Stall
Short StoryA short story of an abandoned bathroom stall door giving desperate, heartbroken girls relationship advice, hot guys incorrectly trying to woo hearts, a stupid dare in action, and irrationality ruling the minds of every character.
