For my brother. And all who are like him.
I hate laundromats.
Most people would read that sentence and laugh. I urge you, don't be most people. Hate is a strong word and I use it with every bit of intention. You could have returned from a relaxing vacation in Hawaii with the gorgeous Brad Pitt, but once you enter that place, life has the tendency to drain itself from you--seeping through your pores, absorbed by the thread monster that lurks in the humid air. Ha. I sound absurd. I've only been three times in my entire nineteen years on planet Earth. Although, I shouldn't count them all because it was this year when I first experienced the need to actually go. Anyways, three times is all it takes to finally realize the destructive potential a place may have on you. For me, it's the laundromat.
I won't get into the obvious frustrating, agony of waiting for your clothes to finish, or the terrifying feeling of anxiety that comes from knowing someone is watching you in such close proximity. Let's not forget the obnoxious buzzing and swish-swashing, the grumbling and intense vibration that has a tendency to creep on the back of your neck, down your spinal cord--if you close your eyes, it seems like the whole place'll just explode. Then there's that stupid humming coming from the overhead TV's. You have to cock your head in such an unnatural position just to catch a glimpse of Barnie's fat head. Honestly, how the hell do children watch it? There's a dull paint on the walls that curl up, revealing the even more dull color of faded blue underneath. I guess someone had painted a mural of the ocean because you could find traces of waves and coral etched upon the plaster. It was like the ferocity of the ocean could not be contained behind the beige coverup. Sort of like a broken smile. Before I forget, one more thing, the bell. Oh yes, the bell. It's this device used to alarm victims of possible derangees that may enter at any God-given moment. Believe me, you're going to want to know.
Now, before I get any further into my story, I would like to pose an explanation... This is not to deter you from having clean clothing or to to shut-down millions of quarter sucking leeches. I just think people should know. That's basically it.
...
The first time I saw her, I felt like I was witnessing a first degree murder before my eyes. The way she dragged that poor bag along the ground, with such disdain. Then, she forcefully shoved the whole wad into the washer. Other people at least carefully separated each article, but not her. I admit I was curious. You know what they say about curiosity. She slammed the lid down and it was then when I ducked. Here I was under the counter. I could slap myself. I just gave her the affirmation that I was watching her, great. You would've done the same too. She looked directly at me, no hesitation, with these penetrating eyes. She had a short choppy bob cut, jet-black hair. Her eyes were brown, at least I think. When I got the courage to come back up, she was gone.
That was weird, she was just there...and I'm sure I didn't hear the exit bell ring.
...
Can he please hurry up so I can get this over with? Okay he's going for the latch. Easy, easy, and now! "Whooaaaa!" He screamed, "What the hell is your problem?". What's my problem? Are you kidding me? He was the one staring me down, what's with people.
"You were looking at me." I shrugged
"Oh, since when is that a crime? I work here, my job is to watch the place" he justified himself.
"Well, have a nice life". I gave him a toothy grin and walked out.
