Time passes slowly for you as you dangle from the torn edge of the paper towel. You thanked the Gods for your wiry frame but even you can't hold on forever. By the time light starts streaming in your muscles are aching and your tendons are on fire. The noise of the first person entering, therefore, gives you cause for celebration. You look around to see your coworker Larry, who now looks more like a moving mountain capped with sparse white hair. "Larry!" you shout in joy, "over here!" It doesn't take you long, however, to realize that Larry can't hear you. He simply stands over your scattered cleaning supplies and shakes his head. "I am so tired of cleaning up after that slack kid," you hear him grumble as he begins to pick everything up. "Larry!... Larry!!! I'm over here!!!!" But it is pointless, you must be the size of a tick and your voice so high frequency dogs might miss it. You watch with a deepening depression as Larry leaves the restroom. Is this my fate then, you wonder, to hang until some girl obliterates me while she dries her hands... or to fall into that vast unknown below, perhaps living off what I can scavenge from the trash. The thought terrifies you and causes you to clutch even harder to the hand-towel. Someone will see me, you tell yourself, someone must see me.
Within no time, the raucous sound of student crowds begin to drift through the door. They are so much louder than you remember, even sending vibrations down the face of the paper towel and into your sore arms. Soon the bathroom gets its first customer, a young blonde girl who spends most of her time at the mirror. You yell at her but she doesn't catch a word of your insignifigant cries. Instead she leaves in a hurry the wind of her passage nearly blowing you from your handhold. The next girl seems to be the hippie type with braided hair, a long retro skirt and sandles. You try shouting at her but by now your voice is starting to get hoarse. She passes right by you giving you a close look at her gangly frame and rather flat chest. Though not really your type she was cute in her own way... you stopped yourself, how can I be thinking a girl is cute at a time like this, plus she could probably crush me without ever realizing, how cute is that?!
The hippie chick spends a minute or two in the stall. With your tiny ears the tinkle caused by her peeing is clearly audible so there's no doubt about what she is doing. Hearing it causes you to blush and look away even though there is a stall door between you and the urinating coed. She emerges after flushing and goes to wash her hands. Then she approaches you... Frightened you close your eyes, please use the hot air dryer, please use the hot air dryer, please.... You open your eyes and look up. She is...
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