Blue towel

A public restroom isn't the sort of place where you want to loudly cry. So Isabella determined that she would quietly cry. She sat down, tears streaming in the approximate middle stall of the rest stops bathroom before vaguely remembering that perhaps she should have headed to one of the end stalls. The loudly hand dryers were going off continuously and there were simultaneous conversations from moms to their small children. Isabella reached carefully into her large leather purse and pulled out ear plugs. She twisted them into her ears and then pulled out noise canceling headphones. In the bottom of the bag was a microfiber towel which she wound across her face and tied in the bag of her head. Now the world through her wet eyes appeared a deep calming blue and was filled with melodic music. Sometimes you couldn't control where you were, or the circumstances of your life. Max would be finishing his cheeseburger soon and would come and stand outside the bathroom. They'd had a bad fight in the car. He'd hit her casually as they pulled up to the reststop. Smacked her across the face as if it was nothing. As he always did and she always stuck up for herself, told him it was abusive screamed at him to stop. But then she never did anything and perhaps he knew she never would, giving him perpetual permission to freak out and hit her. But right now, inside this deep blue towel, Isabella knew peace. Palchebel's canon flooded her ears through her giant headphones. Images of a sea flooded her mind and hope of powerful love, not romantic but grounded love for the earth, came flooding in. It was a long time before she untied the not that smooshed the towel against her face, and took her noise canceling headphones off and pulled her earplugs out. When she did so it was surfacing into dystopia, back to the harsh lights and smells and rush of people who barely glance at you. She washed her hands carefully and left the bathroom without bothering to dry them.

— 7Roses