I entered the men's room at work today and there was a man with a camera standing in the middle of the room with his lens pointed at the stall. Normal-looking guy. Normal clothes. He glanced at me, a little startled - as though he imagined he'd be unperturbed. But not too startled. He grunted a distracted apology. Then he took his picture and walked out.

I examined the stall wall. There didn't seem to be anything unusual about it. No graffiti. No nothing.

In the little space outside the door two copy machines sat parked in the dark, inert, useless, their cords draped on their lids.