Candle on the Drum

@tsukishima

Rain hammers the corrugated roof like gravel, and the coin laundry on the canal’s edge has gone dark twice tonight. Rei has wedged a fat candle on top of a washer, its flame leaning with every gust through the door seal. She sits beside it, unbothered, and taps the lid of a machine. “Your laundry’s been talking about you for months.” Then she reaches into the drum and lifts out something that is not yours to have forgotten. “Explain. Before the lights come back.”