Open 24 hours

At 1:17 in the morning, Chloe realized she had nowhere to go.

She stood beneath the buzzing sign of the Blue Moon Laundromat with a trash bag full of clothes pressed against her hip. One of the letters in LAUNDROMAT had burned out, so the window glowed-

LAUNDRO AT OPEN 24 HOURS

Rain ticked against the glass.

Chloe had eleven dollars and thirty-two cents in her pocket, a phone at nine percent, and a key to an apartment that wasn't hers anymore.

So she went inside.

The laundromat smelled like detergent, warm dust, and something faintly burnt.

Twenty-four washing machines lined the walls. Half of them had handwritten OUT OF ORDER signs taped over their doors.

Behind the counter sat a man with silver hair and thick glasses. He was watching a tiny television without sound.

He looked at Chloe. Then at the trash bag.

"Machines are four dollars," he said. "Dryers are quarters."

"Okay."

"Change machine's broken."

Chloe stared at him.

He pointed to himself. "I'm the change machine."

She almost laughed.

Almost.

She handed him five dollars, and he counted twenty quarters onto the counter.

Chloe chose washer number fourteen because it was farthest from him.

She dumped everything in.

Jeans. Two sweaters. Socks. A green dress she hadn't worn in years. The oversized college sweatshirt she'd stolen from her brother before moving away. At the bottom of the bag was a red T-shirt belonging to Lan.

She held it for a moment.

Then shoved it into the washer.

Four quarters.

Eight.

Twelve.

Sixteen.

The machine locked with a click.

For thirty-two minutes, Mara watched her life spin behind glass.

At 2:06, a teenage boy came in carrying a backpack and no laundry.

He bought a soda from the vending machine and sat near the dryers.

The man behind the counter didn't question him.

At 2:41, a woman in blue hospital scrubs arrived with two baskets of children's clothes.

She moved like someone whose body had forgotten what sleep was.

At 3:03, an old man came in just to use the bathroom.

At 3:20, Chloe's phone died.

She stared at the black screen.

For the first time in years, nobody could reach her.

Lan couldn't call.

Her mother couldn't ask whether she'd thought this through.

Her boss couldn't email.

The landlord couldn't remind her that the lease had always been in Lan's name.

Nobody knew where she was.

Chloe sat very still.

Then, unexpectedly, she began to cry.

Not dramatically.

No sobbing. No shaking shoulders.

The tears simply came, one after another, while dryer number six thumped every few seconds because somebody had apparently left a shoe inside.

The silver-haired man appeared beside her.

He held out a box of tissues.

"Thanks," Chloe whispered.

He nodded toward the dryer.

"Been doing that for three hours."

"The shoe?"

"Yeah."

"Whose is it?"

"No idea."

That made her laugh.

It came out ugly and wet and real.

The man smiled.

"There you go."

He returned to his television.

At 4:12, the woman in scrubs fell asleep in a plastic chair.

Chloe folded the woman's children's clothes for her.

She didn't know why.

Tiny shirts. Tiny jeans. A pair of pajamas covered in dinosaurs.

When the woman woke twenty minutes later, she stared at the neat piles.

"You did that?"

Chloe shrugged.

"You didn't have to."

"I know."

The woman looked at her for a second.

Then she said, "Thank you."

Two simple words.

Chloe nearly cried again.

By 5:00, the rain had stopped.

The teenage boy was asleep with his head on his backpack. The silver-haired man had switched from television to a crossword puzzle. Outside, the sky was turning from black to dark blue.

Chloe's clothes were dry.

She folded them slowly.

The green dress.

Her jeans.

Her brother's sweatshirt.

Then Lan's red T-shirt.

She considered throwing it away.

That seemed like the sort of thing people did in movies. A symbolic gesture. Toss the shirt, toss the relationship, walk into the sunrise transformed.

Instead, she folded it.

Not because she wanted Lan back.

Because it was just a shirt.

That realization felt better than throwing it away.

At 5:43, Chloe carried her clothes to the counter.

"Can I charge my phone?"

The silver-haired man pointed to an outlet beside the coffee machine.

"Knock yourself out."

She plugged it in.

The screen lit up.

Fourteen missed calls.

Nine messages.

Chloe didn't open them.

She called her brother.

He answered on the second ring.

"Chloe?"

His voice was thick with sleep.

"Hey."

"Do you know what time it is?"

"Yeah."

A pause.

"Are you okay?"

Chloe looked around the laundromat.

At the sleeping teenager.

At the nurse loading another dryer.

At the abandoned shoe still going thump, thump, thump.

At the silver-haired man pretending not to listen.

"No," Chloe said.

It was the first truthful answer she'd given anyone in months.

Her brother was quiet.

Then he said, "Okay."

Chloe waited.

"You can stay with me," he said.

"I know."

"For as long as you need."

"I know."

Another pause.

"Want me to come get you?"

Chloe looked through the window.

Morning had arrived without asking anyone's permission.

Cars moved along the wet street. A bus groaned to a stop at the corner. Somewhere nearby, someone was making coffee.

"No," she said. "I think I'll walk."

Her brother laughed softly.

"You live six miles away."

"I know."

"Chloe."

"I need the walk."

He understood.

"Okay. I'll leave the door unlocked."

She hung up.

The silver-haired man slid something across the counter.

One quarter.

"You overpaid," he said.

Chloe knew she hadn't.

She picked it up anyway.

"Thanks."

Outside, the air smelled like wet pavement.

She put the quarter in her pocket and started walking.

The trash bag of clean clothes was heavy against her shoulder, and six miles was farther than she'd admitted to herself.

But for once, she wasn't worried about getting somewhere quickly.

Behind her, the Blue Moon Laundromat kept glowing.

OPEN 24 HOURS.

Chloe liked the thought of that.

Some doors, apparently, didn't close.