The owner had sold the building. Or maybe he just hired a company to deal with the “riff-raff.” This guy looked like he was made of beige plastic. Beige khakis, beige skin, beige soul. He walked around the laundromat, ticking boxes on his tablet.
He stopped at The Wall. He didn’t kick it. He didn’t scream. That would have been human. Instead, he took continue reading …
