There was something oddly enchanting about that old laundrette. I just couldn’t explain it. Was it the way the old wooden door looked inviting and warm? Or the way that the calming scent of fresh laundry followed you as you walked past? Perhaps it was the way that the light coming from inside never seemed harsh or industrial but homely? Whatever it was intrigued me and I knew that I needed to go inside. I decide to keep walking, I just want to get back to my house. The sun was starting to set and my stomach was starting to growl so loud you’d think it was trying to speak.
Once I got back I stopped to take in my surroundings. It felt cold; not in temperature but definitely in atmosphere. It almost seemed blue, as if all the colour had been drained leaving the world in black and white. I put some kind of frozen meal in the microwave and took my shoes off. Whilst waiting for the microwave to ping, I turn the tv on to the news. The same old stories of the corrupt and devastating so instead I find a cheesy program to tune out to but the loud DING of the microwave bought me back to reality. I eat the lukewarm meal and go to bed feeling fine. Just, fine.
The next morning I am at work again. Nothing ever changes. Is this all life is? To wake up, go to work, go home, go to bed? How tedious. I power on through the day but feel something is missing. I need something new. Once I am back at the house, I start to unload my hamper of washing when I realise ‘this is it’. This is what I can do to find something new. I gather all my loose change and find a bag for life to put my clothes in. I proceed towards the warm glow that cuts through the darkness, towards the midnight laundrette.
YOU ARE READING
The laundrette
General FictionWhat is it about that laundrette? It's just so alluring. Surely this random laundrette doesn't mean anything, right? This is a random story I started writing at 2:00am. It's just a nice, calming story that kida has a plot. Just give it a read.
