That’s when I noticed the gun in her waistband. And the police tape still on her sleeve.
I sat on a cracked plastic chair, watching my delicates spin in machine #4. The air smelled of bleach, weed, and regret. In the corner, a guy named Cheese argued with a dryer that ate his last dollar. “I seen it take the quarter,” he whispered to the lint trap. “Don’t play me.” mofos laundromat
She walked over, close enough I could smell her perfume—jasmine and trouble. “You got three seconds,” she said. That’s when I noticed the gun in her waistband
The sign buzzed two letters dead: . Antonio said it fit—because only mofos came here at midnight. and regret. In the corner