The bathroom doorknob is slimy. The inside bathroom doorknob is slimy. This is not good. This is so very not good. I stare at my hand in dismay. The stuff is translucent. If it has a colour at all, it's whitish. (NO, it's not that. Don't be ridiculous. They're none of them old enough.)
Who was in the bathroom last? I see no drips on the floor, no smears on the sink, toilet, or tub. More hand-staring. I rub thumb and forefinger together. It's slick, it's not sticky. No idea.
Now, I deal with slime of any number of descriptions every day in my job, and I am not squeamish. However, snot is snot is snot. Pee is pee. Barf is barf. Even liquid poop is just that. When you know what it is, you can deal with reality, no matter how redolent. And, of course, I never touch it. Not without a cloth, or gloves, betwixt me and it. Mystery slime, when you weren't expecting it, all over the bare skin of your hand, is quite different. Even though it's almost certain to be one of the above, it's different.
Move my hand gingerly up to my face. I want to smell it, but God help me if it accidentally touches my lip. It smells... it smells...like not much, really. I bring it gingerly a little closer. It smells...nice. It smells nice! It smells like...
Liquid soap from the pump dispenser. I think I'll just go sit down now.