The Cavalier

The laundry was gone. Every bit of it. I crept down the hallway to it, careful not to step on the spot on the wood that Creek just so loud it sounded like the Titanic flipping over. The laundromat with no lights on. All those big round mouths on the dryers lined up in a row behind the glass. Sparkling Cat was the bane of my existence. Half the machines always broken, never draining right. People overloading them all the time or wandering off and leaving their clothes. And what was it all for? So we don't smell bad? Why don't we just all agree mutually to smell bad? Then we'd be free of this insanity forever