Small town, Sunday night

My dryer died last night, and I had to go to the laundrymat to dry my clothes. There are few places stranger than a laundrymat. There I was, folding my socks and underwear at a public table, under fluorescent lighting, in front of a plate glass window facing a crowded parking lot, no less; right next to a guy who was folding his socks and underwear. I’ve known this guy since we were kids, and we’re on generally friendly terms, but neither of us uttered a word the entire time. We were too busy trying not to look at each other’s underwear.