Every aisle of my laundromat is like walking the red light district in Amsterdam. Rows of giant front loading washers with fogged up windows and promises of Super Spin Out and Turbo Prewash and 55 Lb Load. Sometimes the doors are just hanging wide open, flapping in the breeze. Under the soft rock piping through the loudspeakers, you can hear them stage whispering to the customers: “Hey, big boy! You got quarters? Try me.”
My name is Nasreen. I write micro essays, one-liners, and other small things. Most of them were funny at some point, at least to me.