Day 290 Porcelain Prisoner

I was not bothered by Fajid as he sat in quiet disillusionment, his sad antennae motionless and askew. I had watched him for much of the day, as he attempted to walk up the glossy white surface of the bathtub, only to slide ignominiously down, legs and antennae in awkward disarray. Occasionally I would find him peering into the blackness of the drain, longing for an escape from his seemingly impenetrable porcelain prison. His occasional awkward steps toward the hole of the drain only resulted in his spindly legs slipping on the edge, throwing him off balance, and making him grudgingly retreat to safety of the porcelain. Alas, his body lacked the flexibility of other species. It was at times like this that he would turn inward, staring at the emotionally devoid whiteness of his prison walls, and reflect on his short uneventful life. Was there warmth in his exoskeleton for another? Was there flittering progeny that will have to learn life’s lessons without him? Grand schemes of conquest and adventure slipping away?

He was silent on all counts.

It wasn’t because of cruelty that I did not set him free. I would be liberating him by morning-- because I had no intention of showering with him--but I did not set him free. In truth, I was feeling down and alone myself, and I valued his soundless company. Additionally, his imprisonment gave him a special status that crossed species lines. I am not sure I could guarantee his safety, even from me, if he lost this status. I did spare him the unpleasant knowledge that several of his species, no one special I hope, had attempted to access the bathroom via the fan ductwork, and because I had carelessly left the fan on, they had met their maker in an unholy puree that littered the sink with tiny crunchy bits and the fan housing with the moist parts. Thankfully, I only heard the commotion and did not bear witness to the carnage of which I bore partial responsibility.

It has been almost ten months that I have been traveling and I had avoided spending much time in bathrooms of a foreign nature, and had also made a special effort to avoid making friends in any of them. But then, with my first case of traveler’s diarrhea, I was grateful for Fajid’s company. We shared different but similar predicaments; neither of us knew if and when we would ever escape the confines of that bathroom. Sure, I could leave for a time, but I wasn’t long before I returned to Fajid’s side to sit in unspoken solidarity as prisoners of plumbing fixtures.