While no one looks I pretend that I’m a rock star, posing and winking for an imaginary audience. There’s Mr. Mouthwash, who’s tall, regal form smells of fresh mint leaves. With my hair fastened into a loose ponytail, I can relish the swish, swish sound as I bob my head to music. Miss Soap Bar’s shiny crown of bubbles always makes me smile. I squint and pose, jerking my hips to the left, to the right. Someday, when I’ve gone public with my talents (so far the bathroom's been my only stage) they’ll ask me in an interview, why I started. I’ll have to bring my yellow toothbrush, Mr. Mouthwash and Mrs. Soap Bar, remembering to ignore the shocked smiles, thinking They’ll never understand.