Knock, Knock

I was standing at the urinal, doing my business, and all of a sudden I knocked on the wall. I do not know what made me do it, maybe something I was thinking, or just the pulse of life. I was surprised at my involuntary action, but I was even more surprised at what happened next.

Beyond the wall, somebody knocked back. Two knocks, just like me.

I knocked again. Three knocks this time. Hoping to provoke more.

The other side knocked three times. Same rhythm.

I raised my hand again. I hesitated. What if they do not knock anymore. Will I end up the needy fool? But I went through with it. Knocked three times. Two knocks together, one afterthought-ish at the end.

Three knocks came back. The crazy rhythm suggested inventiveness and imagination. Three happy knocks.

I knocked twice.

Two knocks back.

I had long finished my business, so I was just standing there with the thing in my hand. I knocked again. Just once.

Knock knock came back.

I wanted more. More communication, more reciprocation. But somebody walked in, a middle-aged tough guy, truck driver type. The unforgiving type. No jokes, no funky business, no knocking on the wall, regardless of who might be on the other side.

So I did not knock again. I walked out, leaving the unknown knocker alone and, I hoped and dreaded, waiting.

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