Laundromat goer, MN
MN Day 18 is it, today's count: 933. Total: 15263.
Outside POV. Gen. Laundromat (that should have said, oops) goer. An older lady watches two boys washing some VERY muddy clothes.
The door clangs open and disturbs Gillian’s silence. She rests her knitting on her knee and watches two young men come in. They must be younger than her sons are now, by a long way, still just making their way in the world. They walk slowly, moving their bodies stiffly as if they are really exhausted, but they scan the room and see her and give her a nod and a smile.
Nice boys, brought up well. Gillian approves. She smiles and nods back. They are the only other people in there and she tries not to watch them, but there’s not a lot else to rest her eyes on. They tumble clothes out of a duffel bag onto the floor. The clothes are really dirty, covered in patches of mud and grease, and goodness, blood, as if they haven’t been washed in weeks. As if they have been playing some of those sports men always seem to find fascinating and Gillian never has understood. Especially when they get you injured and get blood on your clothes.
“Get the soap, Sammy.” One of the men nods to the other, who wanders over to the dispenser, then tsks as he finds it broken.
“It’s broken, Dean.” Sammy, it must be, gives the most adorable pout, the sort of pout her Steven used to do all the time when things didn’t go his way. It makes this twenty something year old man appear all of six years old. Sammy wanders up to the desk, but Gillian knows it’s a waste of time. That attendant is out back talking to her boyfriend and that means she’ll be gone a good while. “Hello. Is anybody there?”
Muffled giggles come from the back.
“Sounds like somebody’s having a good time.” Dean wanders up to the counter too. Gillian smiles as she sees the smirk on his face.
“You can have some of my soap boys.” She puts her knitting away and holds out the powder.
They exchange incredulous looks. Sammy clears his throat. “That’s very kind of you ma’am but we can’t take that.”
“We could pay her for it.” Dean pulls out a couple of crumpled notes.
“Or I could just take your thanks.” Gillian gives her best disapproving but amused twinkle.
Dean smiles. “Well, thanks. Take the lady’s soap Sammy.” Dean nudges his brother.
Lady. Definitely brought up well. Sammy takes the soap, nods and smiles and says thank you as he does. Gillian bets they have a nice family at home. A mother and father who care for them, but who make them do their own washing, teaching them how to be their own men. That’s important. Maybe they don’t live near home, but she’ll bet they visit.
She’s lucky that her sons live so close.
They set their washing going. Sammy returns the powder with another thank you and Gillian waves it off as unnecessary. She wants to quiz them about their life, ask them where their families and wives are, because if they were married why would they be in the Laundromat? There were no women's clothes in that pile. She wants to ask a lot of questions, but her Brian always did say she was far too nosey.
Gillian collects her drying instead and bites her tongue. It’s nearly time for Ethan to be here. Ethan, the apple of all their eyes. He runs in while she’s folding her washing, clattering straight into Dean.
“Whoa there kiddo.” Dean steadies Ethan firmly. “Watch out.”
“Sorry,” Ethan pants. He runs up to Gillian. She leans down and gives him a hug. Boys are never too old for hugs in Gillian’s book. “Hey Gran.” Ethan squirms out of her reach.
“Hello Ethan. I’m nearly done. Where’s your father?”
“Dropped me off outside, said he’d talk to you later. He’s late to get Ginny.” Stuart never could be on time for anything.
Ethan grins and holds out his hand, and Gillian puts a mint into it. Ethan takes it and pops it straight into his mouth. He fidgets from foot to foot as Gillian folds her clothes. She gets him to do the small items but he gets bored, wanders over to where Sam and Dean are sitting quietly chatting.
“Don’t bother them Ethan.”
“He’s no bother,” Sam says mildly. “Hey Ethan.”
Ethan smiles. “Hey! That’s my Granny.” He points at Gillian.
“We met her,” Dean says. “She helped us out. Hey, Ethan, up high.” Dean holds his hand up high and Ethan hits it. “Down low,” and Dean holds his hand out. When Ethan goes to hit it, Dean whips it out of the way. “Too slow,” he says, solemnly. Sam laughs at them both.
Gillian grins at them, and puts her last shirt into the pile. “Let’s go Ethan.” She wanders over, holds out one hand for Ethan to grab.
“Do you need a hand with that bag?” Sam glances at her bag and pushes himself up out of his seat.
“I got it. You two boys take care.” Gillian goes to the door, pauses, then turns around. “I hope you find nice wives someday. To look after you.” She casts her eye over their threadbare clothes. “And kids. You seem good guys, like you deserve it.” They give each other incredulous looks, again, and she supposes they aren’t used to strange old ladies complimenting them in Laundromats. Her Brian always did say she should learn not to talk to strangers. Gillian waves at them both, and they give small waves back. Then she leaves them alone with the quiet whirring of the machines.
**
feedback is love.
Outside POV. Gen. Laundromat (that should have said, oops) goer. An older lady watches two boys washing some VERY muddy clothes.
The door clangs open and disturbs Gillian’s silence. She rests her knitting on her knee and watches two young men come in. They must be younger than her sons are now, by a long way, still just making their way in the world. They walk slowly, moving their bodies stiffly as if they are really exhausted, but they scan the room and see her and give her a nod and a smile.
Nice boys, brought up well. Gillian approves. She smiles and nods back. They are the only other people in there and she tries not to watch them, but there’s not a lot else to rest her eyes on. They tumble clothes out of a duffel bag onto the floor. The clothes are really dirty, covered in patches of mud and grease, and goodness, blood, as if they haven’t been washed in weeks. As if they have been playing some of those sports men always seem to find fascinating and Gillian never has understood. Especially when they get you injured and get blood on your clothes.
“Get the soap, Sammy.” One of the men nods to the other, who wanders over to the dispenser, then tsks as he finds it broken.
“It’s broken, Dean.” Sammy, it must be, gives the most adorable pout, the sort of pout her Steven used to do all the time when things didn’t go his way. It makes this twenty something year old man appear all of six years old. Sammy wanders up to the desk, but Gillian knows it’s a waste of time. That attendant is out back talking to her boyfriend and that means she’ll be gone a good while. “Hello. Is anybody there?”
Muffled giggles come from the back.
“Sounds like somebody’s having a good time.” Dean wanders up to the counter too. Gillian smiles as she sees the smirk on his face.
“You can have some of my soap boys.” She puts her knitting away and holds out the powder.
They exchange incredulous looks. Sammy clears his throat. “That’s very kind of you ma’am but we can’t take that.”
“We could pay her for it.” Dean pulls out a couple of crumpled notes.
“Or I could just take your thanks.” Gillian gives her best disapproving but amused twinkle.
Dean smiles. “Well, thanks. Take the lady’s soap Sammy.” Dean nudges his brother.
Lady. Definitely brought up well. Sammy takes the soap, nods and smiles and says thank you as he does. Gillian bets they have a nice family at home. A mother and father who care for them, but who make them do their own washing, teaching them how to be their own men. That’s important. Maybe they don’t live near home, but she’ll bet they visit.
She’s lucky that her sons live so close.
They set their washing going. Sammy returns the powder with another thank you and Gillian waves it off as unnecessary. She wants to quiz them about their life, ask them where their families and wives are, because if they were married why would they be in the Laundromat? There were no women's clothes in that pile. She wants to ask a lot of questions, but her Brian always did say she was far too nosey.
Gillian collects her drying instead and bites her tongue. It’s nearly time for Ethan to be here. Ethan, the apple of all their eyes. He runs in while she’s folding her washing, clattering straight into Dean.
“Whoa there kiddo.” Dean steadies Ethan firmly. “Watch out.”
“Sorry,” Ethan pants. He runs up to Gillian. She leans down and gives him a hug. Boys are never too old for hugs in Gillian’s book. “Hey Gran.” Ethan squirms out of her reach.
“Hello Ethan. I’m nearly done. Where’s your father?”
“Dropped me off outside, said he’d talk to you later. He’s late to get Ginny.” Stuart never could be on time for anything.
Ethan grins and holds out his hand, and Gillian puts a mint into it. Ethan takes it and pops it straight into his mouth. He fidgets from foot to foot as Gillian folds her clothes. She gets him to do the small items but he gets bored, wanders over to where Sam and Dean are sitting quietly chatting.
“Don’t bother them Ethan.”
“He’s no bother,” Sam says mildly. “Hey Ethan.”
Ethan smiles. “Hey! That’s my Granny.” He points at Gillian.
“We met her,” Dean says. “She helped us out. Hey, Ethan, up high.” Dean holds his hand up high and Ethan hits it. “Down low,” and Dean holds his hand out. When Ethan goes to hit it, Dean whips it out of the way. “Too slow,” he says, solemnly. Sam laughs at them both.
Gillian grins at them, and puts her last shirt into the pile. “Let’s go Ethan.” She wanders over, holds out one hand for Ethan to grab.
“Do you need a hand with that bag?” Sam glances at her bag and pushes himself up out of his seat.
“I got it. You two boys take care.” Gillian goes to the door, pauses, then turns around. “I hope you find nice wives someday. To look after you.” She casts her eye over their threadbare clothes. “And kids. You seem good guys, like you deserve it.” They give each other incredulous looks, again, and she supposes they aren’t used to strange old ladies complimenting them in Laundromats. Her Brian always did say she should learn not to talk to strangers. Gillian waves at them both, and they give small waves back. Then she leaves them alone with the quiet whirring of the machines.
**
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