The Paper Crane

                                                      The Paper Crane

         Entering  the laundromat I escaped the torrential rain. Collecting myself, I 

began to wipe my feet and dry my face. The heat from the dryers turned the laundromat 

into a safe haven from the freezing rain and high winds. Holding my balance, rubbing my 

forehead and trying to stand still long enough to not vomit, I slowly hunched my way to a 

orange bolted plastic chair. Alcohol had overcome my better side last night and I was 

paying the price greatly. My senses began to kick in and the smell of fresh linens and new 

beginnings came to my mind. The soap had resonated through the air, taking over any 

possibility of foul odor. The machines spun in perfect unison, swirling in circles while a 

celing fan spun in the opposite direction. I tried not to look. I was ready, my clothes were 

ready and it was time to wash yesterday away. I slouched my way to the machine and 

tossed my rain soaked clothes into the spiraled dormant vortex. I placed the quarters into 

the coin slot to start the machine, but the coin deposit would not slide easily due to soap 

residue from previous patrons. I pushed harder and harder until it accepted my money 

and the pain from my hand. Clink!, Chug, Swing! The sound of the deposit was so abrupt 

it reminded me of a court gavel, letting me know the process was in order.

      The machine started, I took a deep sigh and looked around briefly to discover I was not alone, in fact there were several people here. Did they all just arrive or were they here from the beginning? To my right was a soccer mom type utilizing four racks with multi colored hangers, each rack had its own color I thought to myself wow, how smart and how coordinated she is to remember what clothes go where and who gets what. I could not even  remember if I had mixed colored clothes in the machine so I set it to cold; “phew close call” I thought . To my left was an elderly man; he was folding clothes in such a structured form that he is now called the “Colonel” of the folding army. I was a novice at laundry and also concluded I was a novice at taking care of myself in general.

         Feeling nauseous, it was time to sit down again. I stumbled my way back to the 

orange utilitarian plastic that resembled a chair and heard the sounds of paper folding 

swish!, fold, crease, fold! swish. A few seats away was a young Asian man passionately 

folding paper. His finger slid and bent the paper finely at the edge, then moved back 

upward towards the center. Clearing my vision from the hangover I saw the shape 

of a lotus begin to form; it was visually arresting and put me into a meditative state. 

        The young man turned to the stranger and asked “would you like a lotus?” The 

stranger seemed perplexed that someone was asking him a question at the laundromat and 

such a random question as that, but after a few moments the man happily accepted the 

lotus. The man not only looked appreciative of the gesture, but also had a peculiar look of 

sympathy in his eyes towards the young man. He folded paper in such a way that looked 

as if the paper was never designed to be flat, but brought to life as amazing figures. The 

origami master was now the name I had now given to the young man. He was about 20, 

with short spikey hair and about 6 feet tall, but had a presence about him to be much 

older and wiser. It appeared the majority of his laundry was finished and was waiting on 

his last load. Hmm, I thought to myself what an interesting place the laundry mat is, 

where no two days are ever alike and doubtful that the same group of people would ever 

meet again. The soccer mom opened the door to leave and the heavy rain sounded like a 

rain of applause to a finished Act. I laughed by impulse of the rain applauding the soccer 

moms fine laundry work then received some looks from nearby patrons, but none from 

the origami master. I was thinking to myself did I offend this guy for him to not even 

acknowledge my presence but offer amazing origami to someone else? Back to 

my problems and looking at my cell phone, I cringed at the trail of evidence of ridiculous 

drunken jabber I had sent to my friends and my ex-girlfriend. Frustrated, I put my phone 

away and looked around, I noticed that everyone in the place was aware of each other.  

They were not speaking to each other but were fully aware of each other’s presence. I 

was so wrapped up in my own problems I was just as guilty for not communicating. 

      Feeling woozy, I heard the sound of paper folding again and was drawn back in to 

the origami master’s work, this time he was folding on top of a laptop computer that did 

not have a screen, but a really uniquely textured cloth that drooped downward where the 

screen should be. The cloth made it look like the screen had taken the day off and got 

stoned. The computer made unique sounds and had etched markings over the keys. 

Finally, it dawned on me that the origami master was blind! At first I was shocked but 

later became jealous, “wait; hold on how could I be jealous of a blind person” I thought ? 

I was disgusted with myself for feeling so entitled to believe there was not a possibility to 

be jealous of a blind person. I felt wrong and ashamed but put those feelings away until 

later. I just wanted to see what was being folded next, and to put my problems off like I 

always do. The door opened and the rain applauded once again. In walked what appeared 

to be a vagrant. His stench was a strong match for the smell of fresh linens but after a 

short rigorous battle the scent of the linens won. He sat and met with someone he 

recognized who also appeared to be a vagrant type, talking about the rainy weather and 

how he scored some good stuff last night and was feeling the aftermath.  He was wearing 

an Eddie Bauer sweater that looked like it would be worn by someone who was 

socializeing with elitists. It was warn, dirty and had holes. I thought if Eddie Bauer saw 

his product line worn in that fashion he would jump to remedy the situation by offering 

the addict a new sweater from his recent collection. I found myself laughing again at how 

cynical the world is and realized the origami master just shook his head in disapproval, as 

if he picked up on me making fun of a situation, but was still focused on his work. The 

origami master calmly went back to folding, the addict became fixated on the origami 

master’s hands; we looked at each other then we both went back to staring at the folding. 

After a turtle and crab was brought to life I noticed the homeless man taking paper out 

himself, he was rolling a roll your own, but watching the origami master make a swan 

while he rolled his cigarette. I was not sure if he was so visually intoxicated by the 

origami master’s work or he wanted to compete to feel he could do the paper rolling 

without looking. I noticed my machine had stopped shaking and that my clothes were 

ready for the dryer. I waited until the origami master finished the swan, and then hurried 

to the machine, as if I was on a commercial break before he started a new piece of paper 

that has not yet taken form.

       I threw my clothes in the dryer and just hit buttons, delicate!,,high, heat, beep beep;

“whatever just spin and dry!” I made my way back to the chair and came close to losing 

my balance again as my hangover reminded me I was still paying a debt from yesterdays 

binge. The addict chuckled at my balance techniques and the origami master shook his 

head once again. The janitor now passed by, swaying his mop back and forth almost as if 

he was an usher at the theatre of human nature. He looked at me, then the floor then 

back at me wondering if I was going to make his job a lot messier. After some time 

passed the addict and I sat there entranced by the origami masters creations with the 

sound of ambient dryers in the background. The door opened and a rain of applause broke 

our concentration. In walked a homeless man coughing and limping his way into the 

laundromat, finding a chair much like the way I did when I arrived, he was in bad shape 

and looked like he had no options left and nowhere to go. The origami master put his 

work on the chair nearby then stood up and walked over to the homeless man and asked, 

“Would you like a flying crane or a jumping frog?” I watched the homeless man look up 

at the origami master then saw the homeless man soaked in tears. The addict and I looked 

at each other and then we both looked down. I felt guilty for watching, but could not help 

myself but see the origami master creating the flying crane for the homeless man. The 

origami master said “when pulled, the wings flap and it will take flight.”  The homeless 

man studied the flying crane in tears and I decided to finally look away. I went to the 

dryer to get my clothes and the homeless man walked out the door, the round of applause 

from the rain was somber and the wind had relaxed. I watched the homeless man put the 

origami on his cart as he started to limping n down the street. Both the origami master 

and the addict left the laundry mat, I stood there wondering if I looked through time to 

see myself as the addict first and then the homeless man, strolling down the street, flying 

the crane. 

Reviews

[B.McClaine]

Awesome! I loved the little descriptions. I love the part where you chuckle to yourself about the rain applauding at the soccer mom's laundry skills. You make me feel like I'm at the laundry mat with your descriptions. It's 4am and I need some sleep. I would be happy to critique in the morning if you'd like.

[Jay Dean]

Thank you for taking the time to read and critiquing, I appreciate it!! :) I am always trying to expand my horizons on storytelling and love any feedback possible! Look forward to reading your work and new works in the future!