If I owned a store or a laundromat, I wouldn't trust unknown money pumpers to look at it if I had to leave momentarily. One of the streetlights outside suddenly burst and went out, leaving the others to flicker by themselves, and then as the last spark from the streetlight fluttered to the ground, it began to snow. Small and persistent flakes fell rhythmically on the parking lot outside, slowly covering the two cars. They presumably belonged to the owner and the man. I sighed softly and involuntarily in sync with the washing machine's alarm, which indicated the end of the wash cycle. I slid off the edge of the bench and transferred the soaked clothes to the dryer right in front. The clothes were weighed down by the rebirth and newfound innocence they had lost. I pressed the start button on the machine twice after running it for 8 quarts before it decided to actually work and returned to the bench I had previously been sitting on, quickly massaging my arms to warm them up after being influenced to turn purple by the drop in power. temperature