Tremont Laundromat Take n

Recently I’ve been do­ing my laun­dry in the evenings, and there is al­ways a very old la­dy play­ing lot­tery with scratch off tick­ets the en­tire time I’m there. It doesn’t mat­ter which day, or what time, she’s there. She on­ly scratch­es off one tick­et at a time, then leaves the ta­ble in the laun­dro­mat, goes out­side, walks next door to the fake Dairy Mart, buys one more lot­tery tick­et, comes back in­to the laun­dro­mat, sits down at the ta­ble and starts scratch­ing again. For God knows how long. She mum­bles to her­self as she does this, and scratch­es off every sin­gle par­ti­cle of scratch-offi­ness that is present on the card.

She has a friend who doesn’t talk to any­one but her. This friend talks ap­prox­i­mate­ly 73 gril­lion miles a minute to Lottery Lady about any­one and every­one who is sick and dy­ing, and oh how ter­ri­ble it is and did you know what kind of head­stone he had and he was buried two weeks ago to­day and so and so’s sis­ter is in hos­pice and he has “Altheimer’s” and starts to scream and the bills they have are so ex­pen­sive did you know that his lungs are filled with this yel­low flu­id…

The Tremont Laundromat is a nev­er-end­ing source of sur­re­al­i­ty. It is al­most worth the $2.75 I pay for each load of laun­dry.

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