My Aunt's Bathroom

The guest bathroom of my aunt's house is pleasant. The floor tiles measure eight by eight and have a nice muted earthy tone (what color is mauve?). The marble countertop reflects my face when I look down at it. White curtains conceal the windows, each curtain embroidered with a single pink rose on the bottom inside corner so that the roses nearly touch.

But there is one thing...

On the wall above the toilet tank hangs a black-framed ink drawing of a toilet in an English garden. In the white space to the right of the toilet and to the left of the manicured shrubs reads, "Use me well and keep me clean; I'll never tell what I have seen." This makes me feel self-conscious, and not because of the semicolon. The bathroom is a space where voyeurism should not take place, especially when the voyeur is a presumably inanimate fecophile.