Because of a Tumble

16 Dec
They met while their clothes were tumble drying at the laundry mat. 
She seemed glued to her paperback and her chewing gum. 
He was busy chuckling to himself, reading an old copy of Mad magazine. 

There was the smell of cooking clothes 
and the sound of a purchased Coke 
dropping in a vending machine. 

He watched her, pretending he didn't. 
She didn't really see him at first 
being too occupied with the dog-eared book in her hand. 


Her dryer cycle needed more quarters. 
She fished in her purse, but it was no use.  He saw her dilemma 
by the annoyed look on her face. "I still have a couple, 
and if you need them..." She seemed embarrassed 
at his offer but agreed to borrow the coins 
on the condition she would pay him back the next day. 
He said that wasn't necessary.

Four months later, they eloped.
Everyone said it wouldn't stick.

30 years later, 
they were still visiting the old laundry mat together.

Leave a comment

Posted by on December 16, 2021 in Poetry, Short Story



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: