There was a young man behind the front counter of the laundromat. Last time Musette and I came here, Musette had gone in by herself and I had held Charlo outside.

The young man has light brown skin, black rimmed glasses, and a white t-shirt with short sleeves. He is soft spoken.

He takes our laundry and puts it on a scale.

“There is a plastic bag in there full of stuff we don’t want dried.” I tell him.

“Or you can dry them, if that’s what you have to do, but maybe do them on ‘delicate’, if that’s a possibility.” Musette says, interjecting.

The young man nods.

The scale weighs the laundry and tells us that it will cost around ten dollars. The young man goes over to another bag which is sitting in a cart behind him.

“Your clothes will be ready for pickup on Friday.” he says.

Musette looks at me. Friday is the day after tomorrow. Neither of us have that day off. It is both of our Monday.

“It will be okay.” I tell her. “We’ll figure it out.”

“So, are you going to dry the clothes in the plastic bag?” I ask him.

“We can hang them.” he says.

“That’s perfect.” Musette says.


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