what's happened to pancakes?
he leaned out the window, wondering where that sentence would fit. a car drove by. soot from his boots stained the floor underneath the table, but he didn't care. caring was for mothers, or hijackers; people with ideas. he wasn't much for ideas, since bruce moved out. bruce the idea guy. it actually sounded funny. the one with the suede pants. mark tied his shoes and got up, effortlessly stretching his legs one by one as his well-worn chair squeaked back behind him.
bruce was done with this laundry stuff. two driers, three washers, and $7.50 in quarters. he'd rather have his $10 back. oh, so there were 10 more in his back pocket, but that would have to do. he took sacks, took clothes, hefted them out the door. a nineteen ninety five import sedan quivered down the road across the street. didn't someone used to drive one of those?
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