The Empty Stall
I heard someone sobbing in the stall next to mine in the campus bathroom. When security opened the door, the stall was empty. Locked, silent, and impossible.
I still feel the cold tile under my slippers and the echo of that hysterical wail. It was finals week, the library a fluorescent tomb, and the crying started soft and private before escalating into a raw, terrified sound that made my skin crawl. But there was nothing - no backpack, no jacket, no sign anyone had been inside.
The memory has followed me ever since: the sudden, aggressive absence where a person had just been, and the way the…
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