As the people pile in,
Maggie slowly finds herself being pushed further and further towards the wall.
Happy to stay as close to the door as possible,
She watches the clock above the refrigerator tick tick, slowly away,
Counting down to an acceptable time before she can casually slide out unnoticed.
Charles stands by the table smiling,
Willfully accepting all the saccharine strewn adulation thrown his way.
Tina Leads the charge singing
"Happy Birthday too youuuu"
Everyone begins to clap.
A handful of pocket streamers pop thru the fluorescent filled milieu.
Greg slices thru the air with a knife,
All eyes on cake,
Maggie seizes the opportunity to sliding backwards out the room,
disappearing into the hallway.
She ducks out to the bathroom & opens the familiar stall,
Same one, every time
Puts down two long rips of toilet paper on either side of the seat.
She sits, pulls out her lunch, tucked sloppily sideways in her travel tin,
Headphones on, nothing playing, she pushes around & eats her lunch.
Last nights leftovers, a cold quiche and soggy caesar salad.
Nothing crunches loudly as the ear pods oddly amplify the silence.
She hears the bathroom door swing open.
Maggie's falls into her charade,
the carefully constructed choreography,
She props her feet up against the inside of the door,
As the stall next to her becomes occupied
Looking under the divider,
Maggie recognizes Glady's loafers,
Shiny & clean, without a scuff on them.
Twice Maggie was overlooked for the companies promotions,
This last time, Glady's in her clean line of click clack shoes - won the bid.
Maggie was too tired to care.
All she wished for now was for an site Port-o-Poddy,
Maybe just outside by the commons,
Where she could hear the wind thru the trees,
And truly eat in silence.
She'd rather eat lunch there.
At least then she'd be alone.
Gladys, as efficient as ever, flushes
exits to wash her hands.
Maggie peers thru the crack to see her co-worker standing before the mirror,
Staring back at herself lovingly;
Washing her hands,
Straightening her blouse,
Reapplying lip gloss.
Gladys exits.
Maggie finally stops holding her breath.
Which she does often, unnoticed.
She places her feet back on the ground.
Wraps up her tin packed lunch box.
Takes a deep breath,
Stands and turns, kick flushes the toilet.
Completing the mirage,
For what she had come here to do.
Unsatiated still,
A girl Interrupted.
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