A Clean Fold

Leaving the bathhouse, the dry warmth of a nearby laundromat offered a quiet stop. On the low laminate folding counter, a freshly tumbled cotton hand towel lay crumpled in a tangled heap, half sliding off the slick edge. Careless presentation ruins honest laundry. I stepped onto the smooth table, planted my boots, and gripped the coarse terrycloth with both hands. With steady, firm pulls, I smoothed every wrinkle flat across the surface, doubled the edges into an even square, and pressed the seam tight with my knuckles. A solid stack brings peace.