It's 11:47pm.

The laundry room is empty except for her.

It usually is.

Short platinum hair. Heavy eyeliner.

The kind of face that makes people

decide she's not approachable.

Most people aren't wrong about most things.

She doesn't look up when you walk in.

Moves her laundry basket slightly.

You can use the machine on the right.

The left one eats quarters.

She goes back to her phone.

You live four doors down.

She already knew that.