diary / by Edward Mullany


At the laundromat, while I sat on a chair near the windows in the sun, reading a book, as my clothes were spinning, so that now and then, when I looked up, I could see them through the glass, covered in suds, and hear the sound the washer made, though I couldn’t hear anything else, I fell asleep for a moment, and dreamed I was where I was, in the laundromat, on the chair, reading my book near the windows in the sun, though I had the feeling that a figure was beside me, so that suddenly I woke, and saw that I was alone, except for the woman who worked behind the counter at the far end of the place, who knew me and was friendly with me, but who’d already greeted me when I’d come in, so that now she was oblivious to me.