the bake off

his shirt was hung to dry, and she insisted it would need to be ironed.  so he had no choice.  he had to stay.  but for this he was grateful.  he had nowhere else to go.

so he stayed.

and they spent the time it took for a fine linen shirt to dry in a small humid apartment by competing in the kitchen.  specifically, they held a two-person bake off.  he made chocolate chip cookies with ground espresso and a dash of cayenne.  she made zesty lemon madeleines. 

they agreed to a tie.  another competition would need to take place.

(drabble 26 out of 31)

hand washed

he watched carefully as the young woman thrust his fine linen shirt in and out of the sink basin.  she'd filled the sink with hot water and woolite to wash it. 

he watched her, gave her his full attention, ignoring the café between his hands.  the fine china warming to nearly unbearably hot in his hands. 

her knuckles grew redder with each dunk into the hot, soapy water. 

he held back the threat of tears and the lump in his throat. 

she rang the water out of the shirt and hung it up over a makeshift line in the lounge.



(drabble 25 out of 31)

his last shirt

he watched a young woman remove his three hundred euro shirt from the grungy laundromat machine.  it was his last shirt.  he was paralyzed from saving it.  he watches as she unfurled it. the corners of her mouth turned down in a frown before she looked around, holding the shirt out in front of her.  paralyzed and embarrassed.  everything was falling apart. his marriage, his house, his job, and now his simple attempt to do laundry.  he knew he'd ruined his last good shirt. but he didn't know that the woman who held it was about to change his luck.

(drabble 24 out of 31)