Mofos Laundromat 'link' -

That’s when I noticed the gun in her waistband. And the police tape still on her sleeve.

Here’s a draft piece for — written as a short, atmospheric scene (fiction/narrative). Let me know if you’d like it darker, funnier, or more dialogue-driven. Title: Mofos Laundromat mofos laundromat

Antonio pointed at me. Because Antonio is a mofo. That’s when I noticed the gun in her waistband

Turns out, at Mofos Laundromat, nobody leaves cleaner than they came in. Let me know if you’d like it darker,

I sat on a cracked plastic chair, watching my delicates spin in machine #4. The air smelled of bleach, weed, and regret. In the corner, a guy named Cheese argued with a dryer that ate his last dollar. “I seen it take the quarter,” he whispered to the lint trap. “Don’t play me.”

She smiled. “Then you won’t mind if I check your lint trap.”

She walked over, close enough I could smell her perfume—jasmine and trouble. “You got three seconds,” she said.