Stuck on my forehead

It’s hot and I’ve been running from one side of the city to the other for the past hour. Beads of sweat are forming around my hairline and streams of it are rolling down my back. Thankfully, my suit jacket hides the perspiration marks.

To freshen up, I make a detour towards a chichi mall in the centre of the city. Years ago, their public washrooms were the crème-de-la-crème in restrooms. They’re not anymore, but they’re better than doing your business in an alleyway.

As I enter the restroom, I look for the paper towel dispenser. It's empty and needs to be refilled. There’s a hand-blower, but that won’t do much good. I need something to absorb the moisture. So, I step into a stall and pull out wads of toilet paper. The paper is dabbed across my forehead and face, around my neck, and under my arms. I can’t reach my back without taking off my dress shirt, so I leave it.

When I’m done, I flush the paper down the toilet and step out of the stall. A man appears and gives me a strange look. He must’ve seen me dry myself off. I walk out of the restroom and make my way outside.

Passing by a store’s vitrine, I see there’s something on my face. Something white. A big piece of toilet paper is stuck on my forehead. Not only that, there are also a few strips on the side of my face and one on my neck. I resemble a mummy that was just unwrapped.

I quickly pull them off. Hopefully nobody saw the mess I was in. Next time I have to make sure to check the mirror inside the restroom before I leave.