Fantastic Shits and Where to Find Them
"You're going to have to carry it though" you tell him. He nods, and steps onto the train.
You find two empty seats in the lower carriage. You jump in front of him and take the window seat. He groans.
As the two of you sit down, you hear a faint sound of powder. Similar to the sound of an hourglass, except slightly louder.
You look down, only to find the sand seeping out of the corner of the suitcase.
Beach sand, you thought it was.
He tries to hide it and sweeps the sand underneath the seat in front of you. You push the suitcase towards you, and strategically place your feet so as to block the hole in the suitcase.
Soon enough, the sand stops, a moment of relief. Pure bliss.
The Lady in the seat in front of you stands, grasping onto her skirt. She whimpers, takes off her heels and runs towards the stairs. She collapses onto her knees at the first step; both her hands clutching her satchel.
You tell your friend to advise the crew, and you go check on the lady.
Her face is pasty white. She has a butterfly rash, and her right eye twitches.
"I need to shit" she says.
Through the corner of your eye you spot a long thin trail of sand, stretching from the suitcase which now lied in the middle of the carriage, all the way to the lady's shoes.
Something was off. Your first instinct was right.
You:
You find two empty seats in the lower carriage. You jump in front of him and take the window seat. He groans.
As the two of you sit down, you hear a faint sound of powder. Similar to the sound of an hourglass, except slightly louder.
You look down, only to find the sand seeping out of the corner of the suitcase.
Beach sand, you thought it was.
He tries to hide it and sweeps the sand underneath the seat in front of you. You push the suitcase towards you, and strategically place your feet so as to block the hole in the suitcase.
Soon enough, the sand stops, a moment of relief. Pure bliss.
The Lady in the seat in front of you stands, grasping onto her skirt. She whimpers, takes off her heels and runs towards the stairs. She collapses onto her knees at the first step; both her hands clutching her satchel.
You tell your friend to advise the crew, and you go check on the lady.
Her face is pasty white. She has a butterfly rash, and her right eye twitches.
"I need to shit" she says.
Through the corner of your eye you spot a long thin trail of sand, stretching from the suitcase which now lied in the middle of the carriage, all the way to the lady's shoes.
Something was off. Your first instinct was right.
You: