Agonie got up like a boy and moved like a broken dancer into the shop and found the restroom unlocked. She sat down on the pink toilet and had herself a shit. she washed her hands with grace and pleasure, the eternal words "cleanliness is next to godliness" tapping across the front of her skull. She looked into the mirror for the fourth time that day. the upward movement of her nose cut through a cloud of unknowing and split the day in two. a destructive phallic force and an erotic magnetic creative force shot out like the jet streams of the mid atlantic to her right and left respectively. she was now eye level with herself. a bright white zit was in the exact middle of her brows. it sat right upon that crease of the skull which is known to westerners as the third eye. but it did not look like an eye, it looked like a bright white zit. Agonie's right index finger was lifted by a force which had been traveling up from the Earth's magnetic center for 365 days, moving as slowly as the corporeal magma through which it traveled. this force was neither loving nor hateful, destructive nor creative. this force was random, basic, and gentle. perhaps its origin could be known with the right data, but it would be an uninteresting discovery. it was  one of the trillion of daily forces which are merely following a pleasant path of least resistance. it presently lifted Agonie's right index finger to that climactic point between her brows and let it rest there. Agonie now pressed upon that point by her own will so hard that she was made dizzy and had to sit in that orange crusty chair in the corner of the restroom. Agonie put her elbows upon her denim knees and dropped her head low, chin resting on sternum. a thick vapour of heavy depression fell upon her. depression is magnetically attracted to those in positions of submission. she had nothing going on. there was nowhere to go at. nothing to do whatsoever. Agonie wished to die in that restroom on that orange chair.