Post by Luck Harris on Nov 11, 2023 2:33:28 GMT -5
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Another week, a different laundromat. [break][break]
Luck had been brief when it came to searching for a new place, settling for something fast and simple rather than truly shopping. One result of the decision to be hasty — and there were more than a few — was that his new apartment didn't have washer/dryer amenities. Nor did its complex offer on-site accommodations. [break][break]
Which, all together, that was fine — he was no stranger to the laundromat circuit. But the long years of having his own utility room (and nearby closet) had spoiled him a bit. And it was somehow weirder to stand in the fluorescent lighting, folding crisp work clothes than it ever had been throwing his same three ratty t-shirts and blue jeans carelessly in a bag to wrinkle. [break][break]
He knew that, if he asked, Nate would probably let him come over and do his clothes. But he hadn't wanted to ask. He wouldn't know what the "correct" thing would be to do if he said yes. Stick around while they washed? Pop in and out? Orchestrate it so that it was done while Nate wasn't there? It was very nuanced. More than it had any real right to be. And after some deliberation, he'd decided it wasn't worth the tension and that he'd take his chances elsewhere. [break][break]
This particular laundromat wasn't the closest one to his new apartment. It wasn't even in the top three closest. But the first one he'd tried, the dryers had been awful. Quite intentionally, he figured, so a person either had to spend five more quarters running their load through twice or break what could have been one acceptable load into two smaller ones. The second laundromat he'd given a chance, it'd just been too busy and loud. Even at the times of day and night when he'd figured it wouldn't be (but perhaps everyone else had had the same idea). The third was just expensive. [break][break]
But this one seemed fair enough so far. There'd been a questionable figure sat at the building's corner when he arrived. Luck had reached out to him with his Gift, searching for his feelings and only finding... shiftiness. A sort of watchfulness that had felt sticky in his mind. But the place was near-empty — most people were likely making supper or settling down to eat — which was a good trade. So he'd simply chosen a machine close to the front windows so he could keep an eye on his truck. [break][break]
Now, with his first load of clothes spinning in the washer and his second in a basket atop the dryer directly across from it, Luck chanced stepping outside for a smoke. He pulled out a single cigarette and left the rest of the pack atop his clothes, tucking it just barely down the side of his basket so it might not tempt anyone passing. The door chimed to announce his exit and, after testing the direction of the November breeze, he moved downwind — to the opposite corner of the building where the other man was still sat. He'd showered right before leaving and the ends of his hair were still wet — made cold on the edges of his face by the mid-Autumn air (growing crisper each passing night). But he ignored the bite as he lit up and took that first, almost-dizzying pull.
sometimes the wrong one leads you right[break]sometimes the right one leads you wrong
SO TAKE THE LOW ROAD
take the high road, take whatever road you're on
Another week, a different laundromat. [break][break]
Luck had been brief when it came to searching for a new place, settling for something fast and simple rather than truly shopping. One result of the decision to be hasty — and there were more than a few — was that his new apartment didn't have washer/dryer amenities. Nor did its complex offer on-site accommodations. [break][break]
Which, all together, that was fine — he was no stranger to the laundromat circuit. But the long years of having his own utility room (and nearby closet) had spoiled him a bit. And it was somehow weirder to stand in the fluorescent lighting, folding crisp work clothes than it ever had been throwing his same three ratty t-shirts and blue jeans carelessly in a bag to wrinkle. [break][break]
He knew that, if he asked, Nate would probably let him come over and do his clothes. But he hadn't wanted to ask. He wouldn't know what the "correct" thing would be to do if he said yes. Stick around while they washed? Pop in and out? Orchestrate it so that it was done while Nate wasn't there? It was very nuanced. More than it had any real right to be. And after some deliberation, he'd decided it wasn't worth the tension and that he'd take his chances elsewhere. [break][break]
This particular laundromat wasn't the closest one to his new apartment. It wasn't even in the top three closest. But the first one he'd tried, the dryers had been awful. Quite intentionally, he figured, so a person either had to spend five more quarters running their load through twice or break what could have been one acceptable load into two smaller ones. The second laundromat he'd given a chance, it'd just been too busy and loud. Even at the times of day and night when he'd figured it wouldn't be (but perhaps everyone else had had the same idea). The third was just expensive. [break][break]
But this one seemed fair enough so far. There'd been a questionable figure sat at the building's corner when he arrived. Luck had reached out to him with his Gift, searching for his feelings and only finding... shiftiness. A sort of watchfulness that had felt sticky in his mind. But the place was near-empty — most people were likely making supper or settling down to eat — which was a good trade. So he'd simply chosen a machine close to the front windows so he could keep an eye on his truck. [break][break]
Now, with his first load of clothes spinning in the washer and his second in a basket atop the dryer directly across from it, Luck chanced stepping outside for a smoke. He pulled out a single cigarette and left the rest of the pack atop his clothes, tucking it just barely down the side of his basket so it might not tempt anyone passing. The door chimed to announce his exit and, after testing the direction of the November breeze, he moved downwind — to the opposite corner of the building where the other man was still sat. He'd showered right before leaving and the ends of his hair were still wet — made cold on the edges of his face by the mid-Autumn air (growing crisper each passing night). But he ignored the bite as he lit up and took that first, almost-dizzying pull.
sometimes the wrong one leads you right[break]sometimes the right one leads you wrong
Tag: Open! [break]
Ask if you'd like it tagged/saved for you![break]Why are starters/opens so hard?
Ask if you'd like it tagged/saved for you![break]Why are starters/opens so hard?
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