Chapter 82
As I sang and played the piano, an alarming sensation took place withing me.
My fingers moved without issue, my voice came out normal, my sight and hearing worked as they should. I felt a threatening bubbling in my stomach. The kind that nobody wishes to feel when in front of an audience. The stuff of nightmares.
I have never had anxiety issues. If anything, I could be considered an extrovert before the pandemics, and I may have missed going out with a violent passion.
No. I was about to shit myself. Literally. My stomach turned, and I began sweating a little.
Where will you be when diarrhea strikes? I joked in my mind.
As the song ended, a little nausea gripped my mind and I wanted to rush to the bathroom with all my strength.
I clenched my ass and stood up with a titanic effort. The crowd cheered, but I couldn’t give less than a shit about it, ironically.
The woman that brought the piano returned and I approached her with despairing need.
"Excuse me," I called out to her. "Where is the bathroom?"
She gave me a polite smile and turned her back to the audience.
"There’s a door at the other side of the counter," she said. "The door to the right is what you’re looking for."