SAM

It's perfect is what I wanted to hear, but I knew it would never be said. I stayed standing back against a washer, providing an aura of heat and relaxing repetition. I gripped my tie, loosening it for some cool air. I trotted to the front of the laundromat with an urgency to blow off some stress while checking my cracked Fitbit for the time. The oversized suit my manager loaned me covered it. Something caught my eye as rays of muddied headlights streamed through hung clothes and illuminated a sepia picture of the wrinkled owner titled “Sam.” Getting out of the car, instead of entering, she just stood there staring at the “$5 per Pound” sign. Seeing the hesitation, I walked outside backward to look up at the sign saying, “Yeah, welcome to Cafe Laundromat.” I looked her in the eyes, seeing myself. “I believe we have a seat ready,” I said, smiling. The neon white spackled us in sparkles on the abyssal street corner where nothing else existed.

She finally gave in, saying, “Table for 1, please.”

I nodded happily, then turned back to the laundromat and walked in; however, she shuddered at the first step, looking at the candles and two chairs in front of a washer with a tablecloth draped on top.

“Please give our fine establishment a chance. Most say our food is topnotch,” I said, pulling a table on wheels out from a tarp with a sloppy BBQ burger bigger than my hand. “It’s a…family recipe,” I continued, dropping the server pretense. However, she paid no mind to the burger, instead trotting to sit on top of the active washer. I looked back, confused and stunned as I simply leaned onto the washer, trying to keep up with her. The vibrations punched my back, and the smell of tropical soap seeped into my jacket before I took it off.

“So you have the whole place to yourself, huh?” she asked, picking up the burger with one hand and turning the knobs of the washers to the extreme. “I never thought I would be back here, or that they would even allow me in! I can’t believe that old crusty shit Sam let you stay after hours.”

“You know exactly how little power I have here, but Sam owes me a favor for some unpaid work days,” I said, brushing my shoulder off in a pompous manner in an attempt at humor.

She politely ignored me, grabbing that same hand as she said, “Good, then we can go anywhere, right?” She pulled me into a whirlwind of clothes that dragged across my clothes with infinite textures until I made it to the other side, the clean laundry from our drop-off service awaiting pick up. I was transfixed as she started her own fashion show with the clean laundry. I felt locked in a maze of clothes and her constant need to surprise me with new outfits, even cross-dressing with several men’s suits

“Why didn't they give you these suits? They would fit you much better,” she asked, eyeing my loose-fitting tie.

“I don’t think you are allowed to wear those… actually, I’m 100% sure you’re not supposed to wear those,” I shouted into the forest of clothes.

“Oh, I know, thanks for letting me in by the way, I needed to get my get back somehow,” she said as I finally got a glimpse of her again.

“How about we get back to our dinner?” I asked, trying to regain control.

Suddenly, she pulled the fire alarm and, for the final time, took my hand, dragging me through the quickly soaking shithole of a laundromat. If the drying station was a jungle before, it had become a thick Amazonian marsh, and we were sinking fast into the sponge-like surface of mucked cloth. I didn’t trust her and ripped my hand from her grip, yelling, “No… no, no, no! I am not following you anywhere anymore!”

“What was the last time they paid you?”

“They bou–”

“And not in food, or favors like tonight,” she doubled down.

“This summer,” I said, taking off my wet dress shirt and walking away from the blare of the fire alarm.

“What have they ever done for you?”

I reached my hand toward the alarm shut-off switch. But then it slowed, and slowly I withdrew my hand from it and put it back in my pocket. I walked into the darkening street ashamed, but not alone, holding a shattered “Sam“ picture.

Toby Thierer, originally from McLean, VA, is currently working on writing to distract himself from his YouTube duties and focus on his dream.