episode 1 – clean thoughtsThis story of ambiguous intentions introduces a washroom character to a familiar cadre of Extraordinary personalities.
This story of ambiguous intentions introduces a washroom character to a familiar cadre of Extraordinary personalities.
This story explores forbidden connections and emotional longing within a suspenseful and psychological framework. It is not a conventional romance.
A Tumbling Resistance
AFTER labeling meals to warm up for Alan, Reyna gathers some dirty clothes and heads down to the dim basement laundry. This afternoon, all the washers are occupied, so she has to wait.
Reyna stares into the dryer, the endless tumble of clothes pulling her in. The spinning feels hypnotic, relentless—too much like her thoughts, too much like her life. A shadow flickers in the glass, blurred at first by the constant motion. But as it shifts and grows clearer, she stiffens, her breath catching. That silhouette. She knows it.
Slowly, she turns, her heart skipping. It’s the guy she met in the laundry room across the street before getting married.
Reyna turns and says, “Oh! It’s you.”
“Yes. I thought you lived across the street.” He pauses, his smile teasing. “Are you stalking me?”
For a second, Reyna’s breathing halts, the words landing wrong, almost sticking in her throat. Then she sees the faint curl of amusement on his lips and lets out a shaky laugh.
“No,” she says, tilting her chin to show her ring. “I’m the new bride of a guy in the building.”
Her voice sounds casual, even polite, but her hand trembles slightly as she sets her basket on the folding table. She doesn’t look at him directly, not yet, but she feels his eyes on her. It’s unnerving—and exhilarating.
“I see. You never gave me a chance. Now you’re happily married.”
“Something like that.”
“What’s he like?”
“He’s… He’s, um…” Reyna’s voice falters as she searches for something more, something better, but the words don’t come. “He’s a good provider.”
“That’s… useful. Anything else?”
“I’d rather not talk about him right now.”
“Can we talk about you, or is that off limits too?”
“I’m just a plain old housewife.”
“You might be a housewife, but you’re far from plain. You dress to conceal it, but I can see a radiance shining through.”
“Radiance? Ya think? We shouldn’t be talking like this.”
“Okay. I understand. If I’m making you uncomfortable, I can wash my clothes another time when you’re not here.”
“No! I’m not asking you to leave. I think our conversations should be more neighborly and less… personal.”
“I can do that. As a neighbor, let me help you with your clothes. The sooner I get you done, the sooner I get an available machine. Let’s start over. I’m Evan.”
“Thanks. I’m Reyna. I’ll accept your assistance if you focus on the sweatshirts, not my undergarments.”
Their mundane conversation shifts, spinning in a direction she doesn’t expect. By the time a load of laundry reaches the spin cycle, the frustrations in her marriage spill out—the kind of confessions she hasn’t dared share with anyone. Without realizing the passing time, Reyna is helping to fold Evan’s clothes.
While they each hold their baskets, Evan says, “So perhaps we’ll bump into each other again down here. Do you wash laundry on specific days?”
“I wish I were that structured.” Reyna shrugs, forcing a casual tone. “I just wait till it piles up.”
“Well, if Thursdays are like this, maybe I’ll make it my laundry day too,” Evan says, his tone light. “You know—keeping things neighborly.”
Reyna hesitates, then smiles faintly. “A neighborly wash day.”
“Sure,” Evan says with a grin. “Let’s call it a wash date.”
The words catch in her mind, hovering between playful and dangerous. As she gathers her basket, she forces herself to focus. “You’re married. Stay neighborly.”
But the warmth of his grin stays with her longer than it should. “It’s a date… I guess.”
Back in the apartment, Reyna pulls Alan’s shirt out of the laundry basket and folds it neatly, smoothing the fabric longer than she needs to. She looks at the small pile of labeled meals in the fridge, her chest pounding.
“Alan works hard,” she reminds herself. “I need to give my marriage time to improve.” She picks up one of his shirts and smooths it meticulously, her hands moving on autopilot. But Evan’s words slip into the quiet: “You’re far from plain.”
Her hands falter, the shirt crumpling in her lap. The words replay, unbidden, leaving a warmth that feels both thrilling and unwelcome. She shakes her head, forcing herself to focus, but as she stacks the folded clothes, her hands slow again. A sweatshirt sits forgotten in her lap, folded twice already, as her thoughts spiral back to the man in the laundry room.
A Calendar Date
Reyna slumps on the sofa and turns on the television long enough to get bored before walking over to the window, thinking about Evan. Earlier than usual, the front door opens.
“Oh, Alan? You’re home early,” she says nervously, with unfounded guilt over her conversation with Evan. “Do you have a therapy session?”
“I already did. So this evening, it’s just you and me.”
“Okay. Then let me warm up your dinner.”
After the meal, Alan retires early with her, as her mind wanders back to Evan. When she awakens in the morning, Alan has left for work. She gets up and walks to the wall calendar and writes “Wash day” on each Thursday. Then she notices an appointment with her obstetrician that she prepares for before leaving.
The Spin Cycle
Each mundane day draws her closer to wash day. Finally, Thursday is here, and she hurries downstairs, but Evan isn’t there. The hum of the machines fills the silence, too steady, too calm. It makes her uneasy—like something is waiting to break. What if Alan found out? Would he hurt Evan? A shadow envelops the doorway.
It’s Evan. Her shoulders relax as she sees him, the knot of tension in her chest loosening just enough to let her breathe again. She tries to hold back her smile, but he notices.
Evan says, “It seems like it’s been a whole week since we’ve seen each other.”
“Perhaps too long to wait for laundry. I have three loads today.”
“I come down twice a week.”
“Really? You should have called me. I would have met you.”
“Unless I stood on the sidewalk shouting up at the building, there’s no way to call you without your phone number.”
Reyna smiles. “Oh. You’re right.” She hesitates before saying. “I guess it’s okay… for texting.”
When she hands him his phone back after entering her number, he sends her a message while she’s standing in front of him: “Can I get your apartment number too?”
She smiles again and texts back: “742”
Evan then says verbally, “I was checking to see if you gave me your real number. I’m two floors above you, but I’ll wait until you ask for the apartment number.’
Reyna replies, “We should get busy washing.”
It piques Reyna’s attention to learn during their conversation that Evan would like to have children. Then she confesses to something she can’t retract.
“I guess I’m a lonely housewife. Oh, I don’t know why I said that. Can we change the subject?”
Evan hesitates, his brow furrowing as though he’s carefully selecting his words. “You said it because it’s true. Don’t be ashamed of sharing how you feel about things. That’s why I’m here.”
Reyna feels her heart race. There’s something about the way he says it—so direct, so certain—that throws her off balance. She wants to dismiss it, laugh it off, but instead, she just nods, letting his words hang in the air between them, heavy with unspoken meaning
“Thanks. I guess I’ll see you again… next Thursday?”
“Unless you want to also wash on Tuesday.”
The thought of meeting more regularly has her head spinning out of control. “This is still just neighborly,” she tells herself while gently placing a hand on her belly before responding. “Tuesdays and Thursdays. I can work with that.”
Continued…
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