You wash your hands, quickly, then pass me by. You act as if I’m not there. As if I won’t know that it was you who made the mess.
But I wonder if you see me, seeing you.
And I know on entering what kind of person you are. Too lazy, or in your mind, too above, the action of lifting a toilet seat.
I saw you yesterday, in the mall, you walked by me as I pushed towards the one stall that would accommodate my chair and me.
Later I saw you, in the food court, with your girlfriend. I rolled by your table and stopped and stared at you. I didn’t say a word.
I wanted you to know that even as you value me so little, I value you less. I wanted you to know that your were beneath my contempt.
I saw the change in your eyes as you wondered if I was right.
Let me tell you, I am.