Jason - Stranger

Dear Mister Brown Loafers,

First, let me apologize for not actually finding out who you were. Yes, a more decent person or perhaps less self conscious person might have swallowed their embarrassment and identified themselves. Sadly, I am not that person. In fact, as soon as what happened, happened, I knew there was no way, outside of an act of God, I was leaving my stall until you were completely out of the restroom. Even then, as I could feel my face rush with heat, I carefully considered how long I should wait before leaving, just in case you lingered outside. Thank you, for not lingering outside.

Second, if you hate those shoes, and there is no particular reason you should, I also apologize for for making them your moniker. I actually find them quite attractive. Your shoes that is and not in any perverted way. I should say, I mean this completely platonically. I find your shoes platonically attractive. Not to say you, yourself, are unattractive, or that I am interested, but the narrow band below the bottom of the stall wall and the floor only reveals so much of you. Without your actually name, I had so few things with which to address this letter. I originally started calling you Argyle Socks, but that sounded a little hipster and condescending. I considered Brown Trousers, but a pirate joke ruined those. So, I hope Brown Loafers is okay.

Third, I could tell from your hasty retreat, so fast in fact you forgot to wash your hands, you thought something was going on, on my side of the our shared wall. Please believe me when I tell you this was completely innocent. I am not that kind of person. I understand your concern, I would be concerned too, but please let me explain. See, I hate using sounds for my notifications, so I always keep my phone on silent. I most cases that little vibration is enough to let me know a notification has arrived. Over time, though, I have found, which perhaps you have too, that I feel vibrations when no notification has been given. Additionally, many times the phone is in a place where I can neither hear or feel the vibration given. This would have remained a minor annoyance, except I learned a great trick, where I could cause the flash on my phone to go off when I receive a notification. I have set my phone this way for sometime and have found this feature to be quite useful. Anyway, it was just in this state when you silently took your place in the stall to my right yesterday. As I sat there playing Sudoku, I remember thinking the tiny space was a little dim, perhaps a bulb was out. In that moment, my arms were in there most natural posture, elbows on my knees, allowing me to look down upon the nine by nine grid, but this also pointed the back of the phone, more importantly the flash, directly at the floor.

When my friend texted me, in that dimmer than usual space, I froze. I knew exactly what had happened. I heard the rustling from your side immediately cease. I knew what you must be thinking. I had no idea that the group chat was going to suddenly become alive with activity. I moved the phone up, away from the floor. Flash. I turned it toward myself. Flash. I kept turning a gyrating about hoping the next message would not be seen. So many flashes, like tragic fireworks. In hindsight I think I might have made some guttural noises in my struggle. I assumed when you asked, “What the Hell?” it was a rhetorical question.