Laundromat

The laundromat at 133 Avenue de Toulon must have been the most broken down place on earth today. It's small and clean and white, just four washers and two driers, and a row of deep blue plastic seats against the empty wall. I brought a few articles of clothing there to dry this afternoon and it wasn't the place that was depressing but the people in it. Three of them, sitting along the wall, empty seats between them. They apparently didn't know each other but had coincidentally all been hit by a tragedy of equal weight. There was a small Asian boy of about 15 years, an older woman with stark white hair and unremarkable dress, and a slightly younger butch woman in jeans and plaid shirt. They all sat staring at the washing machines, but not looking at the washing machines. Their thoughts were elsewhere. At first I thought it was me. I have a washer at home and I just came for the driers. It seemed as though they were willing their machines to finish washing first so they could leap upon a drier before one of the other two does... And then I just strolled in with my already washed clothes and toss them nonchalantly in the drier. An unforeseen complication. I pretended not to notice as I put my money in and pressed start and I did not look at them on the way out. Their expressions caused me pain. When I came back several minutes later to get my things, they were still there, their expressions intensified... And I don't think it was me they were upset about.