The Laundromat by Ginda Simpson 100 Word Flash Fiction contest entry |
Lights from the laundromat send garish yellow puddles onto the sidewalk. I find her there, looking worn out, in spite of her efforts to lasso what is left of her youth. Skimpy halter, frayed shorts, bubblegum pink toenails to match her rhinestone flip flops. Her cigarette ash dusts her newly folded laundry. Swearing, she swats at it, sending panties onto the filthy floor. What did she ever see in Earl? And his ratty trailer? She closes her eyes and sways to the jukebox music that only she can hear. A tear crawls down her cheek and disappears without a trace.
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Ginda Simpson
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