Everything.

MARY-JANE PAYS HER LAUNDROMAT BILL.

A whole whopping 12$ she spent at Whirlie's Laundromat.

My job. My life, most of it, revolves around this place. The partially buckled wood flooring reeks of cheerful, artificial scents. Like lilac and lavender... It makes me sick to my stomach.

I hold my breath as Mary-Jane carefully counts her change. See, at Whirlie's, you don't pay the machines, my boss, Mr. Unise, thought it'd be better to have the customer's write down their uses and bring them upfront. If anything, it got the company cheated a couple hundred a month when people either cut down on their bill, forgot to add things, or didn't pay at all. So you can imagine, my job doesn't pay well.

I'm Rebecca. Full name? Ha, you asked for it. Rebecca Allen Louise Jessop Johnson. God knows why my parents decided to make writing my name in kindergarten a living hell.

"Thank you, Rebecca." The elderly woman smiled at me warmly, slipping me a tip when Mr. Unise's back was turned. "Thanks, Mary-Jane, see you next week!" I called after her as she turned to leave. And I would. I knew I would. Every Wednesday, Mary-Jane brought in her wash for the week. Gave her a chance to gossip with me and some of the older ladies who also visited on Wednesdays.

She waved before heading out the front door, making the bell chime as she disappeared into the hot, muggy Georgia sun.

It's summer in Atlanta. Boiling hot, melt the flesh right off your bones-hot. Maybe I'm exaggerating, or maybe I'm just not used to it. I moved to Atlanta after my Dad passed away last year in Montana. My Mom still lives there, so does my older sister. My older brother, Derek, lives in a smaller town a couple hundred miles north of Atlanta.

Why I chose to live in the capitol of Georgia, I have no idea. I've caught myself regretting it several times.

You see, it wasn't my intentions to drop everything to move out to Atlanta to work in a crappy laundromat. Oh yeah, it was my fucking dream... I think sarcastically. I actually came out here for a photography opportunity. But that quickly went under, and I was left struggling for shore. Mr. Unise offered to rent me the apartment space above the store, and instead of paying rent, he just shaves a little off my paycheck each week. Which leaves me with an absolute minimum income of about fifty bucks a week, but hey, money's money, and you're not complaining when you're enjoying the movie you allow yourself to rent once a week, watching it from the nice view of your crappy apartment.

"Are you working overtime tonight?" Mr. Unise breaks me from my thoughts. He's a tall, slender man who tells tales of playing basket ball in high school. His hair already the color of pepper and his yellow teeth tell of other stories of bad decisions in collage.

I smile at him politely. "Do you need me to?"

He becomes instantly grateful. "Yes, if you could. Harry and Janet aren't going to be around later, some collage thing they have going on."

"Oh, right." I nod in agreement, struggling to recall whatever story they'd fed him.

"Just keep an eye on washer number 3, it's been acting up all day." He adds on, his brow creasing with concern. I look over at the washer... Great, babysitting.

"Like what?" I ask curiously.

"Huh? Oh, just sputters, stops, and then won't restart. If you have any complaints about it, just hit the off button for ten seconds, then restart it, should fix the problem." He says it like he's guessing, but his tone is so full of authority it's hard to detect.

"Oh, okay. Yeah, I think I can handle it." I assured him with a smile. "Can I go on break now? There's no one here."

The laundromat was empty, the silence separated by the faint sound of the rock and roll radio station playing in the background.

Mr. Unise inspects his watch. "Only seven more minutes... Oh, you know what, go on ahead. Just be back in a half."

I nod and thank him, heading for the wood door behind the long counter, pulling it open and climbed the metal stairs that clank with every step, all the way to the top. I unlock my door and walk in, not all that tired, just in the mood to be lazy. I hit play on my CD player and go to find some food in the kitchen. Soon, I've concocted a meal of macaroni and cheese with chopped up hot dogs to the beat of an old punk CD by a band my Dad was really into.

My Dad is the reason I love music. Punk, in particular. The only concert I ever went to, was for my twelve birthday. We saw Green Day play in Denver while we were on a business trip. I'll never forget it... 1998, they were playing in a small venue for their Nimrod tour. I remember singing Scattered at the top of my lungs, arms reaching towards the ceiling, fingers curling in passion, the passion in my blood, passion for music. My mind was hazy, I couldn't think of anything else but the beat, a thundering drum in my ears, my eyes trying to lock with the bandmembers, at least once... While that never happened, I had the time of my life. Heh heh...

"Thing 1, Thing 2!" I call out over the music as I make my way into the the living room with a bowl of hotdogs and macaroni and cheese: The lunch of broke champions.

Thing 1 is a black and white cat with eyes that appear neon green, I've never seen the color on any other cat. His real name is sophisticated: Thomas. Thing 2... Well, he's a besingi mix dog, reddish brown fur with the slight appearance of a little, fuzzy fox, and his name is Carl.

They charge in from my bedroom and both sit at my knees, waiting for something to be dropped in their direction. I laugh at them and pet them both, tossing a hot dog in a high arc for Carl, while he's occupied, I pass Thomas a hot dog. If Carl had seen it, he would have stolen it, I'm sure of it.

I turned on the TV and channel surfed until I found Spongebob, laughing as Patrick fought Spongebob to keep him from looking inside his secret box. My phone rang then, I turned the volume down and picked it up.

"Hello?"

"Rebecca!" The fuzzy, bubbly voice replied with wild enthusiasm.

"Ha ha, Amanda, is that you?" I grinned as I popped another spoonful of my concoction into my mouth.

"Yeah!.. Have you heard?"

I sighed, it didn't matter what it was, it was always news to Amanda. Last month, her neighbor's cat was hit by a car, and she pulled this like the president had been shot. I was wary when I finally replied. "...What? No, wait. Did another animal die?"

"No." She replied quickly.

"Did one of your friends kiss their boyfriend again?" I sighed, rolling my eyes.

"No!"

I laughed again, "Okay, then, what's up?"

"THE WALKING DEAD!" She shouted in the phone so loud I cringed away from the speaker, wary of placing it against my ear again.

"I'm sorry." I sighed, "I couldn't hear you with my bleeding eardrum."

"Sorry, sorry... Anyways, are you home right now?"

"At this moment? Yes."

"Turn your channel to the news!"

"I'm watching Spongebob." I complained, fiddling with the remote.

"Do it!"

"Okay, okay..." I laughed, changing it to channel five.

"-In other news, Walking Dead actor, Steven Yeun, received a mild injury on the set of the show's fourth season..."

"And?..." I challenged. Amanda had a huge crush on Steven Yeun, I should mention that.

"He's hurt!" She exclaimed in distress. "I need to see him, how do I get into the hospital?"

"Whoa, whoa, hold up there, girl." I sat up straighter, setting my bowl on the coffee table and crossing my legs under me. "No one is going to let you in. Why are you even thinking about this?" I couldn't help but laugh.

"Because it's the closest I've ever been to meeting him!" She wailed on the other end enthusiastically.

"Don't they like, have a meet and greet after every filming on set?" I asked, fiddling with a strand of my hair, which had acquired a peculiar little knot. I tugged on it as she replied.

"Yeah, but, my mom won't let me drive down there!"

"You're eighteen." I reminded her.

"I know! But..." She sighed dramatically. "It's her car, and she says no, collage work first, yadda yadda yadda..." She muttered in annoyance.

"So you're seriously going to try and break into his room?" I giggled, imagining her charging down the pale halls of Grady Memorial Hospital in her 'I heart Steven Yeun' t-shirt, tackling security guards, clawing her way into his room, where he stares at her in terror.

"Yep." She said with a great deal of satisfaction.

"Well..." I paused, leaning forward to pick the remote up off the table and flip the channel back to Spongebob, gratefully sinking back into the routine of the children's cartoon. "Call me later and tell me how that goes, but if you need money for bail, I don't know you and I'm broke." I laughed.

"Ha ha." She laughed sarcastically. "I'll give you details later, tomorrow morning if I score a date. Talk to you later, girl."

"You, too..." But she'd already hung up.

Okay... Something you should know about Amanda. She's crazy. Whole 'nother fangirl demention-crazy. She watches this show about zombies, which I could never get into... And since the beginning, she's had a crush on the Asian boy character, Glenn Rhee, more importantly, Steven Yeun, the actor. Surprisingly enough, she hadn't met him yet, even though they filmed most of the show pretty close to Atlanta. She hadn't had so much as a fleeting glance at him yet.

I went back to work five minutes later, falling back into that routine fairly quickly, as well.

It was usually pretty busy on Wednesdays, for some reason. Even busier on Friday's and Saturday's. I usually worked late on most nights, since I lived... In store, whatever. Mr. Unise inhabits the other apartment across from mine. So, he's always around if I need him.

Still, this place is kinda creepy, and cool at night. Creepy, because you wouldn't believe how many people roll in at two in the morning to wash clothes. Cool, because if you looked out the front windows of the store, up above all the sky scrapers, you could see the stars. Down here, all the neon lights and music, all the sights and sounds of city life, I loved that part of Atlanta the most. It made you feel invisible for a while, just ot sit back and enjoy life. I enjoyed that feeling more thant I ever thought I would.

I yawned, turning up the radio a little more, smiling as I recognized the tune. The store was empty, so I sung as I flipped the page of one of the drama magazine's Amanda usually left here for me, saying I needed to get out more, keep up with media. But really, I'm fine where I am.

"I walk this empty street, on the Boulevard of Broken Dreams. Where the city sleeps and I'm the only one and I walk alone... Ah ah, ah ah, ahhhhh ah, ah ah, ahhhh my shadow's the only one that walks beside me, my shallow heart's the only thing that's beating. Sometimes I wish someone out there will find me, until then, I walk alone..."

Classic Green Day. I smile as I sing, recalling with the lyrics all the memories I have associated with the song. Picnics, stargazing with my Dad, hearing it at high school dances, dances when I'd dressed like a punk just to spite the popular girls in my class. As I remembered the evenings looking up at the stars beside my Dad, I began to miss him again. The hole in my chest opening again, dripping crimpson down the front of my white band tee. I looked down just to be sure, I was okay.

I took a deep breath until the memory faded, my eyes flashing up when I heard the familiar, cheerful bell above the door. One man walked in, and I instantly noted how tall he was, especially to me. I'm absurdly short, and my mom always teased me and my Dad, because we were the shortest.

He wore a dark hoodie, with the hood pulled up, shadowing most of his face, black Ray-Bans and black jeans. I dropped my eyes back to my magazine, listening to the music again. The song ended and I resisted to sigh in displeasure.

The DJ started rattling about some concert coming up soon, not one I'd be interested in attending, so I tuned that part of his speech out.

"Also, who's heard? I think just about everyone's heard about Walking Dead cast member, Steven Yeun's accident this morning. Apparently it wasn't much, I think it was like, sprained wrist or something? Hey, that's what you get for wrestling zombies all day. Okay, this next song is sponsered by Emporium Bar and Grill on the outskirts, here we go with some Sonic Youth..."

The man's face lifted, and his dark glasses met mine, I felt a flicker of fear run down my spine. He looked away first, reaching down to adjust the washer.

Calm down, I reminded myself there's tons of weird people that come in here everyday late at night, it's not unusual at all. Hey, maybe he recognized you or something? Maybe he thought you were Janet, that girl's always living it up on the weekends, probably knew her from a one-night stand...

I relaxed a little bit after that. Listening to the distorted sound of Sonic Youth. A band my Dad had also liked, but my Mom whined about the singers' voice being annoying. I smiled at the memory, when Dad shouted back in exasperation: "It's not annoying, it's just unique."

"Ahh shit." The stranger muttered, I looked up at him for a brief moment, half expecting him to leave or pull a gun or something. Then I looked above the washer at the little sign. Lucky number three...

Oh no... Be a good and courtious member of this team. Mr. Unise's voice echoed in my head, the words he had told me every day during my first week of training, if a customer needs help, you as an employee should gladly provide it.

I sighed in distaste as I slid off the stool behind the counter and went to approach the man carefully.

"Sir?"

His eyes flashed up in alert, hidden behind his glasses. I could tell he had shaggy, dark brown hair, it poked out from under his hood. Along with light brown facial hair, a faint mustache and beard.

"Huh?"

"Do you need help?" I forced the words out.

"Oh.. Uh, does it always do this?"

"This one?" I asked stupidly. "Yeah. Here... Now, I'm just going to warn you, I'm clueless. My boss told me how to do it, but rather or not the said machine complies with those wishes, it is entirely luck."

He watched my face carefully as though trying to understand what I'd said. I almost said 'nevermind, ignore every word this stupid blonde says, it's probably wrong and I'm feeding you lies.'

"Oh..." He repeated awkwardly.

"Here." I carefully stepped close to him, into his personal space bubble, hitting the off button. The washer stopped the flashing lights. I counted to ten and hit start again. It began to fill up.

I noticed one of his clothing items was a punk rock band tee.

"Oh, that's an awesome shirt." I complimented him, looking at the graphic of two skulls on the front. "My Dad used to collect their records. He was a sap for punk music." I smiled, suddenly unsure why I'd just revealed anything about myself.

"Do you like that band?" He asked quietly, a hint of pride in his careful tone.

"Yeah, they're one of my favorites." I grinned.

The washer jumped a little then stopped filling. "Shittttt...." I groaned. "He didn't say it'd stop again." I muttered, toying around with the controls to try and figure something out.

"You could try hitting the start button again." The stranger suggested, "My mom has a crappy washer, does stuff like this from time to time." He laughed a little, it faded quickly.

"Okay, let's try that."

I hit the button, then something unexpected happened, the water began to fill, but it just kept filling, long past the mark.

"Is... Is it supposed to do that?" He asked with concern.

I watched the water rise to the rim. "No... uhhhh." I leaned over the running water, hitting the off button, the water ran down the sides of the washer, splashing onto the tile. "Crap." I muttered, the washer jumping again, this time, soapy bubbles began building up. Thing about these washers is, they auto-fill with soap and detergent when the washer chooses what they want.

"No! No no no no!" I pushed back the water in a wasted attempt, some tiny part of me was hoping it'd all run back into the washer.

"Watch out!" I cried out as the bubbles built higher, running onto the tile in shiny ribbons. I spun around, my left Chuck Taylor catching on the grout and slipping out from under me, I fell on my ass. I was half laughing and half crying as I rubbed my un-funny bone. The stranger helped me back to my feet.

"Thanks."

He started laughing and pointed at my hair, "What?" I demanded, reaching up, catching a wisp of bubbles in my hair. "Awww great." I groaned, wiping it off quickly.

"What if we unplug it?" He shouted over the washer's loud shuttering. I nodded quickly. "Try that!"

He yanked out the cable, and we stood there in silence for a moment, two feet's worth of shimmering, cinnamon scented bubbles around our ankles, our clothes soaked, his hoodie weight down with dripping water.

"What in the world is going on down here?"

I turned to see Mr. Unise standing at the bottom of the stairs, adjusting his glasses to see the mess spreading across his laundromat's floors.

"Hi?" I whispered innocently with a little wave.

"What?..."

"The washer stopped working." I stated the obvious.

Mr. Unise stared in disbelief at the mess, then groaned, lifting his glasses to rub his tired eyes. "Okay okay... Rebecca, get the mop in the supply closet, please. Sir, I am so sorry for the terrible thing you've experienced tonight, if there's anything we can do-"

"Actually, sir." The man replied, "Contrary to your horrified thoughts, this hasn't been a sour experience for me, it's actually been the highlight of my day." A bright, genuine smile adorned his lips. I stared at him in disbelief. "If anything, I'd just ask for a towel, if that's okay?

"Oh yes, of course. Rebecca?"

"Yeah?"

"The layout of my apartment is the same as yours, you'll know where the bathroom is. Can you please take Mr...?"

"Mark." The stranger replied after pausing for a moment. "I'm Mark."

"Take Mr. Mark up there to clean up."

"Of course." I nodded in agreement, feeling just as guilty as him for what had happened. I could hear Mr. Unise mumbling as we began climbing the metal stairs to his apartment.

I opened his door, which he had left unlocked, and was surprised when I heard a laugh behind me.

"This has been, by far, the best thing that has happened to me all season." He grinned, his eyes unreadable behind the pitch black shades he had yet to take off yet.

Season? Like spring, summer, fall and winter?

"Why's that?" I asked as I led him through Mr. Unise's apartment to his little bathroom in the back.

"Well, don't get me wrong, I do a lot of good stuff, but this, it wasn't planned, scripted or coreographed. It was real for once."

I looked at him in confusion. "You're an actor?"

"No..." He responded thoughtfully. "Yes and no, sometimes. For different things, commercials, mostly."

"How come I've never seen you?" I asked warily, pulling a plush white towel down from the cupboard above the sink.

"I'll bet you have." He replied smugly.

"Well..." I sighed, tossing him the towel and passing him out of the bathroom to give him privacy, "If you took off those shades, I might have." I looked at him expectantly, which he shot back and shut the bathroom door.

When he came back out, he looked mostly the same as he had before, only now his hoodie was unzipped, he wore a light white cotton V neck t-shirt underneath, which nicely complimented his chest and torso.

"Ready to go back down?" I asked quietly, happy to get over with the night.

"Yeah."

Me and Mr. Unise saw off 'Mark'. Watched him walk up the street with his newly cleaned clothes, that we payed for to be done. As he disappeared around the block, Mr. Unise turned to face me.

"What happened tonight?!"