Member-only story
Dirty Laundry
a short story
On a bright winter morning in the village of Smallthorne, Harold Best shuffles along Burnett Road; a bag slung over one shoulder. The bulging bag is stuffed with Harold’s dirty laundry.
Harold has always considered washing laundry women’s work, but since his wife’s death it has become necessary for him to do it. Favoring his bad leg, Harold works his way past the post office and the hair salon and down the road to the Sudz Laundry-Mat.
The Sudz, like most of its clientele from the retirement cottages nearby, is aged and worn, grayed and scarred. Half the time the Laundromat’s equipment doesn’t work and when it does, it leaks. But the Sudz is the only Laundromat in walking distance.
When Harold pushes open the door, three pairs of eyes look up and observe him with interest. Harold knows Sadie Bottoms who sits like the Queen, crowned with iron gray pin curls, in the best seat in the house, the orange plastic one near the dryers where it is warm.
He has never formally met Myra Johnson, who is bent over, stuffing a comforter into the large capacity washer, but he had known her late husband and always saw her when he ran into them together. She looks good from behind.
Everyone in town knows Penny Trueblood from her job as teller at the local bank. Looking as starchy and meticulous as…
