The Laundromat

         She looks up from the book she is reading. A blast of frigid air and a flurry of snow blows through the door when a young man, loaded with bulging, black garbage bags, rushes in out of the weather. He drops the bags next to one of the many washing machines. His round glasses instantly steam-up in the warmth of the all-night laundromat. He removes them, wiping them on the grubby t-shirt which hangs below the black puffer jacket, before rummaging through his pockets, searching for change.

         The elderly lady averts her eyes and senses a shiver of apprehension throughout her body. He looks rough. Those shoes have seen better days, his feet must be soaking wet and freezing.

         The young man stands next to washing machine counting his coins. Shit, I’m a dollar short. He glances around the wet, dirty floor, peers into dark, dusty corners and between the machines. There must be a dollar somewhere. Surely someone has dropped one.

         She realises she has read the same page several times and hasn’t understood a word. Her heart gives a flutter of apprehension. He’s going to ask me for money. He’s probably got a knife.

         Standing, as if deep in thought, he suddenly tips the contents of the garbage bags on the floor. Amongst the underpants, socks, and shirts he makes a sudden lunge at a pair of ripped jeans and turns the pockets inside out. Come on!

Daring a glance while he is distracted, she takes note of his dirty blonde hair and age. He’s just a desperate homeless kid.

         He groans aloud and looks around for the first time. He’s been unaware there has been someone else there, not seen the old lady huddled in her coat, reading a book. She’s pretending not to have seen me. Probably thinks I’m going to attack her or something. Should I just ask her?

         Aware of a lack of movement on the other side of the room, she knows he’s looking at her. She keeps her head down, reads her book. Please, please don’t ask me.

         He considers his options. Looks outside; the snow is heavier now. I’ll just have to ask, or I’m stuffed. ‘Excuse me, ma’am.’

         It is as if an electric shock passes through her. She looks up from her book. Her heart is racing, her mouth is dry. Oh, God.

         He holds both his hands where she can see them, before he speaks. ‘I’m short a dollar,’ he began to speak quickly, ‘I’ve got a job interview tomorrow and need something clean to wear, but…’ He sees the fright in the woman’s eyes. ‘I’m sorry to have bothered you.’ He begins to stuff his dirty laundry back in the bags.

         The woman opens her purse. ‘It’s okay, son. Here take it.’

         Smiling, he takes the coin. ‘Thank you, ma’am, you’ve saved my skin.’

         They sit together and watch as his clothes go around. She tells him she comes in here on nights like this to get off the streets.

         He tells her he’s new to the streets. He’s always scared too.

Written for

FORUM

Vagrant Vignettes  (E) Write a vignette. December 1st till December 31st, 2024 #2299889 by WakeUpAndLive

Words 512