Gray Blind 2

Her faded blue jeans--faded through use, not by chemicals at a factory--seemed to be slit into strips by the oranging sunlight as she crept across the bathroom floor, sticking to the mat and the towel on the floor, wincing at every creak of the old wooden floor, pausing twice to listen for other footsteps approaching.

She was never convinced that she hadn't heard another's footfalls.

The magnetized shower stall door resisted her tugging, but it opened at last. She took off her heavy shoes and stole inside, shutting the door. She backed up against the wall, a steady dripping on her shoulder, and stared through the irregular, mottled glass, trying to make out the doorway as daylight slowly died. Her breathing was light and quick.

It was hard to focus on the bathroom wall; her eyes kept shifting between the surface of the glass before her and the middle distance. She was aware of her heartbeat, which seemed to thump and lurch irregularly.

She wasn't sure if she saw the wall of the shower, or of the bathroom.