the red of the laundromat's neon sign glinted pink behind the slight fog. the street was mute. only the garbage bags by the curbside frazzled by a light breeze buzzed. i flicked my cigarette towards an oily puddle behind a coral green camry. a wisp of smoke curled up from the water like a drowned secret gasping its last breath. i went back in. he was still folding his shirts, mashing his boxers, stealing glances at me. three more quarters i dropped into the dryer. my denims, my coloreds leapt back into circles, uninhibited, abandoned. there was something in this nippy morning not cordial to restraint. jingling like shrill cheerleaders in my pocket were more loose change.