The public restroom's door swings open, and in walk two strangers, both average-built and sporting short cuts, one with brown hair. They approach the urinals, their eyes meeting briefly before they each unzip and begin to piss. The sound of their streams filling the urinals is a symphony of relief, a post-stroke release that's as satisfying as it is taboo. They finish simultaneously, zipping up and leaving without a word, their encounter as fleeting as it was erotic.