standing outside smoking a cigarette on the second floor walkway of my apartment. it looks like it has been doing some sort of slow mist, the feeling it generates is a soft feeling of loss, i am unable to place why that is.

the woman who lives next to us that just moved in pulls into one of the parking spots and her and her son get out of the car. they grab groceries from the trunk. the son waiting in the lot for his mother to finish gathering up and locking the car. he looks up at me.

“hello,” i greet down at them, “how’s going?”

they’ve only recently moved in. normally in a situation like this i would of tossed the cigarette out and ran back in my apartment door.

they make their way up the stairs. as they get closer i panic, “rumor has it, the dryer downstairs doesn’t need money,” i blurt this close to a million miles an hour.

“What?”

“the dryer. i heard it works just by going through the motions of putting the money in. …but i can’t confirm it.”

“oh. right. i can’t get into the laundry room, unless it is left open, my keys won’t work for either room,” she smiles wanly.

she looks like she may of been crying at one point recently.

“really?”

“yeah, my niece said she wasn’t able too either when she lived here. i keep leaving messages at the office for a new one, or something, i had to go to the laundromat last time.”

“i’ll give you my key. we have two. make a copy and when you get a chance just give it back.”

“really?” the woman looks very surprised.

“sure, it’s no problem. doing laundry is a chore as it is.”

“thank you, i always have to work such odd shifts. thank you. at least there is one light today.”

her son is watching me. he shifts the bag. the woman realizes that it’s cold and that the polite conversation has dried up, the bags heavy in their arms. i tell them that it’s fine, i’ll finish my cigarette and get them my key. they go inside and shut door.

it is quiet again.

absently i wonder if they requested to have their food double bagged, i like it when that happens.

suddenly i realize sharply that the pants i am wearing are my pajama pants, the old ones, with the huge rip in the crotch that goes down the leg. in my social fear, i had forgotten how cold it was,

i check quickly.

underwear.

i have on underwear.

after awhile i finish up and get the key from inside. her son is outside. he quietly thanks me. then we go back to our respective lives and lock the doors behind us.