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By: Sarah King

The toilet just kept on flushing. The water rushed from toilet ceiling to bottomless toilet drain with an unstoppable force, rendering helpless both gods and men. Passers-by would pause to both admire the beauty of the thing and to wonder at its persistence. Its sound was deafening. Bathroom-goers who happened upon the ever-flushing toilet were struck by how unnoticed the roar of a toilet’s flush went when its roar was but a momentary disruption. The toilet that wouldn’t stop flushing, though, brought that roar to the fore of every toilet flusher’s mind. Speech was rendered futile in the face of such loudness; thought, almost so.

The toilet that would not stop flushing one day vanished. The bathroom-goers were pleased at the restored quietude to their private plumbing abodes, sitting once more in silence, save for the rumblings, whispers, whistles, and the ever-present sounds of water: a shy trickle or a hurried cascade.

But somewhere deep in the heart of the bathroom and its goers, the ever-flushing toilet was missed. The silence that yawned in its absence felt bereaved. Toilet flushers found themselves enjoying the momentary crash of the waves in the small porcelain bowl, sweeping with it their excess and their unwanted and their shame.

The toilet that wouldn’t stop flushing remains. It has disappeared from one bathroom, but it always seeks another. Perhaps it will find its home in the human toilet – that small but vital plumber that sorts through the waste of emotions and thoughts. May the ever-flushing toilet always find a home in the heart.

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