Original DDE™ art: “Tumblin’” by: rob kistner © 2/16/26
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The laundromat on Aurora hummed with fluorescent patience, each dryer tumbling private histories into anonymous warmth. Mara fed quarters to the machine, watching the glass blur socks, denim, and his blue scarf — she had decided maybe to keep.
Steam rose from her paper cup, carrying the scent of burnt coffee, cinnamon, and bad memories. Her mother used to insist, lips forget what they have kissed, once enough ordinary days stack between — as if time were a shelf where longing could be misfiled.
Across the aisle, a child pressed her palms to another dryer door, laughing at the kaleidoscopic spin. When Mara’s cycle ended, she folded the scarf, hesitated, then placed it into lost-and-found near the counter. Outside, buses sighed, traffic thrummed low. She stepped back into the drizzle, hands gripping her laundry basket. It, and her heart, a bit lighter — her world washed cleaner.
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rob kistner © 2/16/26