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It's ALLLLLIIIIIVE!

I just wanted to give those of you following this blog and story a little update. So I had a plot all worked out and let me tell you I was so excited about it. Next thing you know I start second guessing myself and picking my plot apart until it was basically nothing. I've been trying to get something back ever since but its just not there and I'm sorry about that. That's the bad news. The good news is that I'm not done with these 2 yet. Instead of writing a full length story I'm going to do a 2 or 3ish shot to tell a little more of their mini story. I'll be working on this over the holiday and hopefully be posting it shortly after that. You've all been waiting long enough. Thanks : )

Preview

Here's a little preview of The Mat. You can read all of Chapter 1 here.

I hurried the last few paces to the front door of the laundry mat. I pushed on the door. It wouldn't budge. Again. Nothing.

"What the hell?" I whispered to myself.

I saw the owner sweeping up the floor so I tapped on the glass. He knew me by now. I'd come in every week at the same time since I'd moved here.

He smiled and sauntered over to the door, opening it a crack.

"What's going on Stan? Why are you closed?" I shivered a little in the cold.

"Sorry Bella. We're not making enough money to stay open 24 hours a day. We're going to close at eleven now."

"Well that just…sucks," I huffed.

"There's one a block that way," he pointed down the road, "and around the corner. They're open 24 hours a day. Try there."

I peered down the road and contemplated whether or not I wanted to go the extra block or not. I shrugged my shoulders and decided it wouldn't be too bad.

"Alright thanks Stan." I started back down the street, following his directions. As I turned the corner the laundry mat came into view, lit up and completely empty. Perfect.

I pushed the door open and looked around. There was an older woman seated at a desk towards the back, reading the latest issue of the National Inquirer.

"Hello," she called, not looking up from the magazine.

"Hi," I said softly. I started towards the washing machines. Nobody understood why I liked doing my laundry so late. I thought it was kind of theraputic in a way. There was seldom anyone else around, unlike the rest of my day.

I started separating my lights from darks, my wools from the delicates, putting them into piles on the tops of a couple machines.

I heard the front door open again and I looked up.

"Hey Carmen." The man walked over to the old woman and placed a kiss on her forehead. "How's your week been?"

"It's been good honey. How about yours?"

"Not bad." The man glanced over my way. I averted my eyes down. "Who's the new girl?" He said a little softer, gesturing towards me. I pretended like I didn't hear him and kept sorting through my clothes.

"I don't know. She's never been in here before."

The man kept his eyes on me and slapped his hand gently down on her desk. "Alright." He started towards the washing machines, stopping at one a couple down from me. He dumped his entire bag of laundry on the floor and started sifting through. He picked up a few shirts, sniffed them and then put them back in his bag. The rest of his clothes were stuffed into the washer. He reached into the pocket of his jacket and dug for some change, recovering just enough to get the washer going.