The Laundry Room at Midnight
By Emery C. Walters
The laundry room at midnight. Nobody else was there. It was so tempting to just strip off the clothes he had on and throw them in the washer with the rest. He was fine with not doing it, until he reached in his pocket for the quarters and, instead, grabbed his grandfather’s stool sample bottle he was supposed to have dropped off at the clinic earlier in the week. And, great, he felt it crunch into pieces. Greater still, he felt the contents squish into his hand.
Instinctively yanking his hand out of his pocket, which was a mistake, he smeared everything everywhere.
Staring at his goosh-covered hand in horror, he made another, understandable little mistake—he wiped his hand on his shirt.
“f**k!” Taylor shouted at himself. “Taylor Christi
