Suzi Ruffell

What was it?

It was just a red little thing, wasn't it?

Yeah, I mean, sure.

Yeah, we don't know what it is.

I know you don't know.

Okay.

Dear Chris and Rosie, please keep me anonymous.

Always.

I live in Sheffield, and about ten years ago, I was out celebrating my best friend's birthday.

I was pregnant at the time and very sober.

I'd popped to the toilet in the club for a wee.

When I'd finished, I wiped with what was the last of the loo roll.

As I opened the door of the cubicle, a girl flopped through the main door of the toilet.

She'd obviously been on a particularly heavy session.

She scrambled into an open cubicle, dropped trowel with the door wide open.

So as I was standing in the basin, I could clearly see her in the reflection of the mirror.

I washed my hands and was reapplying lipstick when I realised the girl had finished and was looking for toilet roll.

I turned round to see if any other cubicles had toilet roll, but no joy.

What happens next seemed to go in slow motion.

As I turned back to tell her there wasn't any paper, she... Oh, my God.