two a.m meetings
In hindsight, Charlie probably shouldn’t have gone off to college with only one hastily packed bag of clothes - which he had now discovered to be dirty. In fairness, there hadn’t been much room on the train, and he’d needed the space for his guitar and all his other, more important stuff. But, despite what his mom might think, he did actually like wearing clean clothes.
He hadn’t honestly expected anyone else to be in the laundromat. It wasn’t a normal thing, really, being there at 2am the night before classes started. Most people, he’d reasoned, would be in bed. He probably should be too, but Charlie wasn’t exactly big on doing what he should. Anyway, the night had always been his favourite time of day - if that was even possible. He liked the way things looked at night, the way everything seemed to loose it’s harsh edges and stark colours, the way the moonlight made everything seem a little more magical. He was usually more inspired at night, but not tonight. Tonight, for some reason, all he could think about was the distinct lack of clothes in his tiny closet.
So no, Charlie hadn’t exactly been prepared to see anyone else there. Least of all someone who looked like they might have just woken up. He grinned at her, grasping at the one thing he had in common with the first person he’d met since arriving. “Did you forget as well, or did you lock yourself out and need somewhere to sleep?”
Erica was usually one to avoid confrontation in public places. She hated being forced to start conversations and very little related to what the other person was talking about. When the figure entered, her heartbeat quickened gradually and tried to avoid eye contact, only glancing briefly to make out an image. The boy, maybe around her age or perhaps older, didn’t seem like threat. He hadn’t been carrying a weapon, after all. You know very well not to judge someone from their appearance, her conscious reminded her.
Her voice still sounded quite drowsy from her mini-nap and Erica had no idea to whether her breath was smelly or not. Yet she had to give an answer to the stranger’s inquiry before she gave another embarrassing impression. “Um, yeah,” she yawned before continuing, “I mean, ‘yeah’ as in I forgot to wash my clothes. Stupid, really.” The realization that she had most likely implied that the stranger was stupid for not washing his clothes either came to her quickly. “’Stupid’ as in I’m stupid. Not you,” she hastily said. “Sorry.”
Erica never really apologized to just any stranger she had met but with it being 2am in the morning in a deserted Laundromat, both their situations seemed pitiful anyway. She remained quiet in her seat and concentrated on the rumbling of her own washing machine. She was hopeful that the other person would ask her any more questions yet… he seemed nice enough. I suppose it wouldn’t annoy me to the fullest extent if he happened to ask me how my day was.