Laundromat Close By Novels & Stories

He is away for meetings in another pack and isn’t due back for another couple of days. My eyes dart to the long, narrow window above the laundry machines. The half-moon shining high in the sky tells me it is nowhere near morning yet. I turned my head and looked toward the door; the steps still coming down. I quickly glance around the basement, and even though it’s too dark to actually see anything, I have the layout of the room committed to memory from long hours spent down here. Industrial-sized washers and dryers, the massive laundry folding table, multiple shelves filled with folded clothes and linen, varying sorted dirty piles, and baskets of folded laundry.

PEARL "What? That's absolutely insane, impossible, and ridiculous. $200 for just to clean a jean jacket," I shrieked, almost dying from the price the laundry man gave me. "That's the regular price young lady, I'm afraid," My mouth was wide open as I stared at him in surprise, confusion, and curiosity about how Lucas Anderson was going to successfully bury me alive. I didn't wait for the last bell to ring before I left school to sort out the laundry. I could practically feel his eyes at my back every second throughout the school period and I swear, that every time I looked back, he either wasn't looking at me or he wasn't even in the vicinity at all.

I am about to press the close button when I remember something. “Oh, shoot!” I exclaimed, realizing that I forgot to claim my laundry back that day. I walk out the lift and walk back straight towards the laundry shop to claim those clothes that has been on queue for days now. “I am sorry, are my laundry ready now?” The woman look at me before smiling. “Miss Dionne, right from sixth floor? Tessie got it already and delivered it back to your place.” A sigh of assurance lets out from my mouth before I grab my phone to dial Aunt Tessie. It only took three wings when she answered excitedly. “Dionne!”

It turned out that the place he wake up from was actually far away from seoul because the Laundromat Business was in Incheon. ➪➪➪➪➪☝︎︎☝︎︎ʀᴇᴀᴅ|ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ|ғᴏʟʟᴏᴡ|ʟɪᴋᴇ☝︎︎☝︎︎➪➪➪➪

She would decide in the morning when the champagne was fully gone and the documents were in front of her in daylight and she had slept. The dress was cold. She walked faster. She found a twenty-four hour laundromat on the south end of Merchant, one she had used before, and went in. The warmth hit her immediately, that specific damp heat of industrial machines. She stood near the nearest dryer for a moment just breathing and letting the cold leave her skin. The attendant at the back barely looked up. She found a seat on the bench against the wall and sat down and took the documents out of the clutch and spread them on her knees and read them again.

"Assume more." "Back exit," Elena says. Not a question. She is already moving toward the rear of the laundromat, past the folding women who look up now, past the machines and the warm detergent air and the man with the newspaper who Nadia looks at hard as she passes and who looks back at her with eyes that are too alert for a man reading a newspaper on a Thursday morning. "Him," Nadia says quietly to Alexandra. Alexandra doesn't look. "I see him," she says.

WILLOW’S POV One more thing that impresses me about the servant quarters and living arrangements is the fact that each floor of the building has not only got its own bathroom, but laundry room as well and there’s also a roaster that has to be followed so that there are no clashes in the laundry room when people want to do their laundry. Only six people are allowed to do laundry at a time, since there are six laundry machines in the room and they are responsible for keeping it clean and spotless on that day.

"What happened?" "The machine's dead. I need to use the public one downstairs." "I've got laundry too," Bryson says. "We could go together." I want to say no, to handle this alone. But there's no logical point in arguing at this point. "Fine. But I'm doing my own clothes." "I wasn't planning on washing your underwear for you." "Good." The laundry room is in the basement, fluorescent lights buzzing overhead. There's only one working machine, which means we have to share. I load my clothes while Bryson waits, sorting his pile into darks and lights, soft and hard.

The laundromat was empty, the only sound was the rhythmic hum and tumble of the dryers. Elara scrolled through her phone, bored, her clothes tumbling in a cloud of warm air. Tuesday's were the only day she did had chance to come and do her laundry. Peter the help aid was there, like he always was on a Tuesday night or any other night, sitting in the corner with a book only speaking if his attention was needed. He never looked at her, not really but tonight, he did.

“As long as mowing lawns doesn’t demand sucking someone’s cock in a public restroom, it’s preferable to me.” “It doesn’t have to be in restrooms. There’s a couple of motels near the Central Park, literally renting for half an hour. The “Greenroad” is pretty neat, and the “Red Lamp”. They even change sheets every now and then. If you want to earn some basic capital, that’s the quick way.” There’s a traffic jam ahead of us, and I slow down gradually until we come to a halt. I watch the red rear lights of the cars ahead, drumming my fingers on the wheel. Then, I turn to him.