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Getting fresh in the bathrooms

My curiousity got the better of me when I was alone in the restroom. I took a paper towel and picked up the oldest brick of air freshener I knew of, the one balanced on the top of the stall cubicle walls.

It was very dusty indeed, since it had been sitting up there for some time. I cautiously sniffed at it. Though it was old, it had a powerful smell of something fruity and vile, reminiscent of the results when a five-year-old spills two clashing bottles of scented lotion together.

A diabolical inspiration came to me. If ever I had any vile perfume to dispose of, I could smuggle it into the workplace, wait until alone, and pour it onto the spongelike air fresheners. No one could tell the difference.
Gone away, gone ahead,
Echoes roll unanswered.
Empty, open, dusty, dead.
Why have all the Weyrfolk fled?

Where have dragons gone together
Leaving weyrs to wind and weather,
Setting herdbeasts free of tether;
Gone, our safeguards, gone, but whither?

Have they flown to some new weyr
Where cruel Threads some others fear?
Are they worlds away from here?
Why, oh why the empty weyr?

-- "The Question Song", Anne McCaffrey
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