Laundry

There are too many choices, and he can’t decide, so in the end he stays home and does some laundry. He sits outside on the battered chair and watches the washing drying on the line. While he watches, he smokes cigarettes and drinks milky coffee. He’s forgotten the ashtray so he flicks the ash onto the ground. He remembers how he used to drink his coffee black and long because that’s how they drank it in the American police shows on TV. Sharp artificial scents from the laundry reach him. As the fabrics dry, the smell softens into flowers and sweet afternoons. A friend phones. Just for a chat, they say. He tells them he’s been busy today. Busy, busy. Another friend calls soon afterwards. He tells them the same thing. He wonders why they called. He remembers his first mobile phone, and plays with his toes. The washing moves…