A Row of Pegs

I packed my napkin parcel inside my hoodie pocket and used the faithful wooden clothespin to step outside into Mania-Street. Walking past the bakery, I reached the low brick step of the local laundromat. Underneath the metal folding table by the glass door, someone had dropped a small plastic basket of colorful square laundry clips. I sat on the cool tile threshold, taking each one between my plush hands. Blue, green, and orange—I snapped their flat pinchers onto the low metal trim in an alternating, unbroken rhythm. Every single clip now hangs perfectly parallel, waiting quietly in a neat line.