Or: A really bad excuse for going to meet the guy with whom you’re having an affair.
The man with the ill-trimmed mustache is leaning against the washer and staring out the glass door. He smiles at everyone as they place their clothes in the machines beside him. A woman in a long puffy blue jacket walks through the door and his smile becomes a grin. She is wearing black tights with black athletic shoes underneath her jacket. I wonder where she works, as I can’t imagine anyone would wear that combination by choice.
The man and woman seem delighted to see each other. They stand way too close together for people who are talking about the rain. Her nose is thin and pointed. She cocks her head, lifts her chin and looks into his eyes. He is gently fondling the faux fur collar of her jacket.
“I told my husband that I was going out to pick up a Eureka Reporter, and that I’d be right back.”
They continue to look into each other’s eyes for a very long time. It is obvious that she wants him to kiss her. He doesn’t. He walks her to the door and watches her as she moves down the street. I look down at the chair beside me and see a stack of Reporters. She forgot to grab one.