The paper was worn and fragile and still a bit damp from the spin cycle when I touched it. I took my time unfolding it-was it something I needed? Forgot in my pocket?
‘My love, this news has shattered me, broken me. I don’t know how to process it… I just don’t know if things will be the same. If I will be the same after this…I just don’t know.’
The handwriting was odd and unfamiliar. This was not my letter. It was not in my laundry.
My eyes darted to the dryers, searching for a man, which man I don’t know. The broken one? I searched and found no one. I walked to the plate glass windows and placed my hand on the cool surface to steady myself. Three cars. Is he behind door number 1? I thought to myself foolishly, but they were empty. My heart was pounding, breaking for him and I knew that I would sit here next week, and the weeks after that waiting for him.