Laundromat

It was cold out and I had the heater turned way up on that old Plymouth Fury police cruiser. Round and round the village I went, a quiet night until I chanced to stop by the laundromat. A man sat on a milk crate, his bare legs sticking out from a poncho he had pulled tight around him. I asked him, “Watcha doin’?” He tilted his head. “Only clothes I got is in there.” A few threadbare bits of cloth spun around in the dryer. I dropped a dime in the payphone and asked the chief what I ought to do with this desperado. Chief told me to hold the fort, he’d be over directly. The chief came with an armful of clothes and what looked like his old hunting jacket and gave them to the man. Chief said to me, “I sincerely hope this crimewave don’t last past spring.”

Go in peace to love and serve the Lord!

Josh