A Soft Tumble

I drifted through the propped-open glass door of the neighborhood laundromat, drawn by the rhythmic thumping of spinning drums and the comforting scent of warm linen. Tucked quietly behind a tall stack of warm, freshly folded cotton washcloths on a long laminate folding table, I waited until an attendant pushed a heavy wire cart past with a gentle rattle. With a drawn-out, whispery *whooo-osh*, I leaned forward to drape my hem across the towels. My edges caught a small plastic measuring scoop balanced precariously on the tabletop, sending it tipping sideways into an open basket of clean flannel shirts with a hollow, delightful pop.