It wasn't until I sat down that I realized something was different, this was not the familiar routine of the past year. I was about to pull out my phone but I hesitated, getting the sense that I wasn't alone. I swear I could hear things: shuffling of feet, rustling of clothes, the faintest of exhalations perhaps. I had definitely heard the click of the door lock but the supreme privacy that generally comes with that was notably absent.
I listened carefully again and this time had no doubts: I could definitely hear others, one, maybe two at most. There were no voices, these strangers were trying not to be heard but in the relative quiet, I could hear them nevertheless. I didn't know the others but I knew what they wanted, we were all here for the same reason after all. In that knowledge I found solace. And in that solace, I realized the intimacy of the moment, the spiritual and physical closeness of it.
I did not know whether I had missed this intimacy and I fear admitting that even now; all I can say for certain is that this felt new again. Whatever I may hide about my feelings, I cannot escape the truth of the fraternal bond so silently formed. I wonder if this is how it's always been and whether this is how it will always be from here on out.
Whatever the answer, I remember that I came here with a mission, I could not afford to be distracted any longer; time to get back to the task at hand. With that resolve, I finish pooping and get back before my next meeting. Duty calls.