By Joey Edsall
From my apartment, the other apartments – the ones across the street – look like windowed cardboard boxes. I have this thing with a woman from over there. She lives on the second floor. We ran into each other at the laundromat two months ago and I said, “It was nice talking to you, I do my wash every Sunday at this time.
I separate my lights and my darks even if I know it doesn’t matter. She asks me, “Did you ever notice that your apartment complex looks just like cardboard boxes?”
“I never noticed that,“ I answer. Because I never had.
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