rivers_bend

I've been borrowing the flash challenges from Write Words again. The theme of Laundrette with the words black and white. 300 words.


There's a first time for everything, they say, and this is my first time in a laundrette. They never look like this in the movies. You're supposed to meet the girl of your dreams over washing powder, or maybe an odd sock left stuck to the drum. Let on that you don't know what fabric softener is, and she'll melt into your arms. The only woman in here is so ancient that she probably likes her movies not only black and white, but silent.

She's got her eye on me, so I use the machine furthest from hers. I wouldn’t want her to think I'm after her smalls. I load up the washer with clothes and money, and bury my nose in my book, but I can feel her eyes burning into the side of my head. I bet she's muttering to herself something about the youth of today, expecting me to mug her at any moment, as though I don't have enough to do with the Shakespeare seminar I'm supposed to be presenting tomorrow and no clean clothes until this washing's done.

The old bird's dryer buzzes and she gets up with her basket, still looking over her shoulder at me, suspicious that her polyester skirts are going to send me into a covetous frenzy. When her things are folded and stacked away, she comes right over to where I'm sitting.

'Son,' she says,' I think you'd like my granddaughter. She'll be here in a minute to pick me up.'

Well, that's the last thing I expected. Until, that is, the granddaughter walks in. Long curly hair, a flowery sundress, legs that go on forever, and a smile that breaks a guy's heart. The movies had it right after all. There she is, the girl of my dreams.