The day was winding down. The zipper on her daughter's sweatshirt clammored away in the dryer, rhythmically setting pace for her thoughts. The laundry always seemed to have this effect on her. When she was younger, much younger, about 12 years old, she would stand and stare into the spinning dryer, at first trying to identify the individual articles of clothing as they spun,flipped and dropped back to the bottom of the drum but eventually staring into the amorphous swirl of color that seemed to conjure thoughts of a lost love or a treasured life altering moment, like when her Seventh grade crush spoke to her for the time in the hallway at school. Her thoughts would take her through the entire story of their future lives. And usually at the climactic scene, "the kiss", a neighbor would walk into the laundry room she shared with the other 48 apatments in the building and she would be sucked out of the vortex of the swirling dryer back to her feet in the basemnt of her building.
These days, she found most electronic devices sucked her into the vortex of memory and daydreams for longer intrevals than ever before and more often than she'd care to admit. She didn't know where the time in front of the computer or the television or the dryer went, she just knew that every day her functioning hours grew fewer and fewer as her desire to be be involved in the world grew smaller and less pressing. In the begining she fought the need to isolate herself, pushing beyond her comfort zone daily to continuue the sojurn in the real world. She felt she was surfacing after a long dive, gazing out of the deep blue towards the light,fighting off the impending panic and need to race to the surface. But slowly she was drawn deeper into the abyss. She was checking out. Quietly, she succumbed to the will of the machines to have her, body and soul.
The machines were making it easy. They would do anything you asked as long as you asked nicely and knew how to communicate with them. \
At the end of the day she wold exhale and let it all fall away, the death, the saddness, and just try to focus on her breath as it
These days, she found most electronic devices sucked her into the vortex of memory and daydreams for longer intrevals than ever before and more often than she'd care to admit. She didn't know where the time in front of the computer or the television or the dryer went, she just knew that every day her functioning hours grew fewer and fewer as her desire to be be involved in the world grew smaller and less pressing. In the begining she fought the need to isolate herself, pushing beyond her comfort zone daily to continuue the sojurn in the real world. She felt she was surfacing after a long dive, gazing out of the deep blue towards the light,fighting off the impending panic and need to race to the surface. But slowly she was drawn deeper into the abyss. She was checking out. Quietly, she succumbed to the will of the machines to have her, body and soul.
The machines were making it easy. They would do anything you asked as long as you asked nicely and knew how to communicate with them. \
At the end of the day she wold exhale and let it all fall away, the death, the saddness, and just try to focus on her breath as it
