The sight of
yellow against white was beautiful, triumphal.
The bubbles started forming, swirling, bursting
here, some more there, as the stream steadied. As
I watched the conquering act, many clamored to
get to where I was. I wished they would be quiet;
distraction could be its undoing I thought, as I
focused on the little miracle unfolding in front
of me. It had started as a stubborn drop, then
another, then a nervous spurt, fidgety, then
another, gruelingly staccato. I sighed with
relief when it was over. A jubilant smile
quivered on my lips as I zipped up and flushed.
Appeared in Six Sentences*