[ WP ] It all takes place in a bathroom

The day before, Madison had let the shredded confetti of her photographs fly out of the car window. Mark ’ s face, immortalized on shiny photo paper, glinted in the setting sun. 
 
 Madison didn ’ t know where she was going, just that she needed to get away. The gas station bathroom where she had stopped to take a quick piss was somewhere in the middle of West Virginia, maybe. The tiny room, with two toilet stalls but no doors, smelled like the mud from the river that stuck to the soles of her shoes, growing pungent in the sun. 
 
 Mark used to swim in the river back in high school, and she would photograph him. The first time they met, officially, she showed him a photo, a blush rising in her cheeks. He kissed her. 
 
 She washed her hands in the sink and stared around the dingy bathroom. Light streamed in from a window masked with cobwebs. Graffiti lined the walls. Next to the mirror was a pink marker heart with the initials wiped away from neglect and time. 
 
 He had said, in his deep husky voice, that monogamy was an outdated notion. That, after three years of being together, of kissing those chapped lips and smelling that earthy smell that lingered on his skin. He took the photos off of his mirror. Not conducive to his conquests, she supposed. 
 
 Madison wiped her hands across her stomach, letting them linger for just a moment. It wasn ’ t worth it to think about. In fact, it was time to get back on the road. 

