Writing Prompt 41: Washroom
Listen to the echoes of history in an abandoned home's forgotten bathroom. Let the pink decor transport you to another era, igniting contemplations on growing older and the evolution of taste.
As you stumble upon an old, abandoned house, you are drawn to the faded suite of a bathroom from another era.
Pink tiles adorn the walls, a stark contrast to the modern minimalist usually white bathrooms of today. Reflecting on this scene, you find yourself contemplating the passage of time and the evolution of taste.
Write a short story or a poem exploring what you feel as you stand in this room, lost in its history, contemplating your own journey of growing older — or someone else.
How does this glimpse into the past shape your perspective on ageing and the passage of time?
Until next time.
240 Sheets
Anna searches along the paper product aisle, looking for 3-ply, recycled, biodegradable, loo roll. The brand with the biggest rolls than the rest of the competition.
There it was. Behind the man stacking the shelves. 240 sheets. Over three times the size of your usual loo roll. Four rolls, six, nine or twelve? Which is cheaper? Bigger is better. Less money. She reads the label tags along the edge of the shelves, looking for cost per sheet.
Jesus. When did this happen? Where are the different colours? Pink. Baby blue. Pale yellow. Now it’s white, white, white. Or not white if you buy the stuff made from recycled paper.
Maybe I should install a bidet? We can all wash our bums under a warm, steady stream of water. It’s better, apparently, than all that wiping.
Anna grabs a large pack of fat rolls, environmentally aware, and dumps it into her trolley. Slowly, she pushes the trolley down the aisle, avoiding a singing child, an elderly man with a basket of tinned vegetables and a wild-haired mother of three who appeared to be drinking beer from a can.
She comes to a halt at the end of the aisle, reaching into her coat pocket for her list:
Shampoo.
And conditioner.
Aisle 13. A flush of heat, of embarrassment, fills Anna’s body. She remembers the last time she was here and had to ask where the dental floss was. And the condoms. So humiliating. She’d been searching for fifteen minutes and was losing the will to live. If only something better would happen in her life.
Story first posted in February 2019 // Photo: Tanya Clarke 2019
