Laundry, Rain & Redemption..

Short Stories

Dec 23

Chapter 1: The Storm’s Arrival

The storm had rolled in with little warning, a wall of gray clouds swallowing the late afternoon sun. Rain lashed against the windows of Robin’s Laundry, its relentless rhythm nearly drowning out the faint hum of the laundromat’s aging machines.

Inside, Mary Ann rocked gently in her chair near the window, a silent sentinel in this weathered but resilient haven. Robin’s Laundry was more than a place to clean clothes—it was a lifeline for Pendleton, a small town clinging to its roots while the world moved on without it.

The laundromat held the smells of detergent, rust, and years of fleeting conversations. The walls bore the weight of memories, marked by peeling paint and faded photos of a bygone Pendleton pinned to the corkboard by the door. For Mary Ann, the storms outside were nothing compared to the ones people carried through those glass doors.

The door jingled, and in stumbled Tiffany, clutching a lopsided basket of soaked laundry in one arm and balancing a squirming toddler on her hip. Rain had plastered her dark hair to her face, her eyes darting around the laundromat with a mix of frustration and exhaustion.

Mary Ann’s chair creaked as she rocked. She watched Tiffany’s frantic search for a clean spot to place her child. “Looks like you didn’t miss the storm,” Mary Ann said, her voice calm and steady.

Tiffany shot her a weary glance. “Didn’t have a choice,” she muttered, dropping the basket onto the nearest machine with a wet thud.

Her toddler, a little boy with curls and a mischievous grin, squirmed on the bench where she’d placed him, reaching for a sock that had fallen from the basket.

Across the room, Tucker sat hunched over his phone, his Clemson Football hoodie pulled tight over his head. He glanced up at the commotion, the corner of his mouth twitching in amusement.

“These machines aren’t trying to fight you,” Mary Ann said as Tiffany struggled to shove quarters into the slot.

Tiffany let out a huff, jamming the machine door shut with more force than necessary. It groaned to life but sputtered almost immediately.

“Lady,” Tucker called out, pulling off his headphones, “you gotta jiggle the door. These old machines need some sweet talkin’.”

Tiffany spun around, glaring at him. “You want to come fix it, then?”

He shrugged, his grin widening. “Just saying. Miss Mary knows how to handle ‘em, don’t you?”

Mary Ann shot him a look that wiped the smirk off his face but couldn’t hide the faint chuckle under her breath. “Sometimes, they just need a rest,” she said, rising slowly from her chair.

Tiffany’s shoulders slumped. Her earlier frustration cracked, revealing the weariness beneath. “Why can’t places like this ever just work?” she said, her voice trembling. “Don’t you make enough money to fix this piece of junk?”

Mary Ann’s eyes softened, though her tone remained firm. “This place has stood through storms worse than the one outside. Respect it, or don’t come back.”

The laundromat fell silent, save for the patter of rain. Tucker leaned back in his chair, watching the exchange with quiet curiosity.

Tiffany muttered an apology, her hands trembling as she adjusted the load. One of her son’s toys slipped to the floor with a soft clatter. She stooped to pick it up, her movements slow and tired.

Mary Ann sighed, stepping back. “Hard day?” she asked gently.

Tiffany nodded, her eyes fixed on the machine as it rumbled back to life.

Tucker fiddled with his phone, breaking the silence. “Storm’s messing up everyone’s plans today,” he said, half to himself.

Mary Ann glanced out the window, the rain blurring the view of Pendleton’s familiar streets. “It’s not just the weather that causes storms,” she murmured, more to herself than anyone else.