"Wow," she says, snapping her wad of gum again, and I swallow back the bile that rises at the thought of her plucking the sticky blob from the mat and plopping it back into the hot slimy confines of her mouth. "Fifteen minutes sure is a long time. You should probably get yourself looked at."
I'm about to turn around and lock myself back into the bathroom when she grabs my arm. At this point, all the rational I've prided myself on for keeping my emotions at bay, and before today, I could safely say that I never allowed anyone the satisfaction of seeing me blow a gasket over something trivial, disappeared. Today demolished any pride I had initially built up. So here I am, dignity thrown to the wind and an unstable disarray of emotions, ripping my arm from her grasp and pushing her forcefully away.
I don't stop to see her expression at my actions and briskly walk to the back store room so I can replace the cereal boxes on the shelf I had initially cleaned.
I make it to the store room without stopping and by the time I close the door behind me, the shaking in my legs has resided. I head straight to the stack of boxes to my right, finding the large brown package that contains an assortment of cereal boxes on the top of the pile. My actions are a blur as I scavenge for a box cutter.
"Why do you wear latex gloves?" she asks. I can see her shadow on the wall in front of me, leaning on the door frame. I refuse to face and acknowledge her presence so instead I swiftly slice the tape on a box with a box cutter, drowning out the second half of her inquiry with the scrape of blade on tape.
"Are you, like, afraid of germs or something?" she asks, "Are you OCD? Is that why you tap things all the time?"
I accidentally slice through the latex on my right hand, slicing into my thumb, a slash right under my knuckle. I can't remember the last time I've ever become injured. I'm usually cautious and I never stray too far from my comfort zone to ever encounter something dangerous. And anyways, I tend to stay away from blood because I'm hemophobic, so when I look down at my gushing thumb and hear her yell, "Hey, you need to put some pressure-Damn, don't you faint!", I faint.