The Lowest Point of My Life

Photo by Daniel Kirsch

I think the attendant forgot about me. I pound on the door with my fists.

“Hey! I’m stuck!”

No answer. Fuck. I slide to the bathroom floor and hit my head against the door a few times. The floor is covered in mold and stains that tell me this is the lowest point of my life. I reach in my pocket for my phone, but of course, it’s not there. Runaways don’t carry their phones. A laugh escapes…