She drove over ten miles from campus to the Wash Haus just to do her laundry in private. Walking in with her three bags of clothes, she knew she had made the right choice. She was the only person there besides the owner, who, upon her arrival, went out for a smoke. He knew he could trust her, her having been a long-term customer. She carefully sorted her clothing into separate piles; it would take four washing machines about twenty minutes to wash and four dryers about half an hour to finish the job. Even if she was wrong in her calculations, she’d have at least an hour alone at the cleaners.

The outdated television set hanging from the ceiling was on and a man was apparently talking to himself. Dragging a chair with her, she placed it under the box and reach for the volume button. It was a bit of a struggle but she finally reached it. After listening to the gentleman on the screen, she wondered why she had even bothered to raise the volume. The man was a motivational speaker, one of the same phonies who attended campus multiple times a year, showing off their new bestsellers, the worn-out “I’m here to help you” slogan. The only thing she’d ever left a lecture with was a bright smile and a lighter wallet.

Motivational speakers, therapists, community events, she’d been to all of those and not one had ever helped. All of them had specific groups or categories that she never seemed to fall under. Every attempt she made to fit in to one of the groups failed. She even tried smoking and skipping class but smoke and asthma didn’t work well together. When she took a test to see which color she was, it depressed her even more. She was a blue; and not just any blue, but navy, the blandest of the bland. People didn’t even consider it a color. When they listed neutrals, they said black, white, brown, beige, and navy blue.

The timers on the washing machines all rang at the same time. She systematically unloaded them and filled a dryer. Three sheets of Bounce joined each mix before the doors were closed and the cycles began.

This semester was especially hard for her. Someone had stolen her university card and spent the month’s allowance in two weeks, subtly tossing it at her head before running off. Going to her parents for a loan was out of the question. They had made it clear before she left that they wouldn’t give her anymore money. The university deadline for accepting loans was long past and all she had was her work-study salary, part of which paid for her tuition.

One of the dryers was done so she unloaded it and began to fold. Each piece felt soft and warm in her hands, reminding her of how much she hated the cold weather. Slowly the piles of folded laundry grew and she was left to sort socks. The man on the television was still talking.

‘We always seem to think that life never gives us a second chance, a thought that always turns out to be a self-fulfilling prophecy. Because we are so sure we never get second chances, we could be staring at them and never notice.’

She shook her head and went back to her tedious task. What were the odds that the lone sock in her hand was a navy blue one? As if to mock her even more, it was inside-out and rolled into a ball. When she stuck her hand inside, she felt something and pulled it out. It was a hundred dollar bill with a note.

I’m not that cold-hearted. Love mom.