The street lights outside flickered with age, popping and gently fizzing with every stream of electricity that ran through the bulb. Sat inside of the laundromat and watching the flickering lights, I was awaiting the wash cycle’s end. Clothes that were dirtied from last night were being rehabilitated by vicious lashes of water and soap. It was the holy cleansing we all deserved. The shirts, pants and socks all pushed up against the restricting glass of the washing machine’s door, fighting for freedom while I just sat there, aware of the cruelty and the drowning but yawning my cares away. The inside of the laundromat was cast in a harsh cyan light that pained the eyes at such late times as these. It was around 9 p.m., and the only people present included myself and a …show more content…
If I were the owner of a shop or a laundromat, I wouldn’t trust money-pumping strangers to watch it if I had to leave momentarily. One of the street lights outside suddenly burst and went out, leaving the others to flicker on their own, and then as the last of the street light’s spark fluttered down towards the ground, it began to snow. Small and persistent flakes fell rhythmically onto the parking lot outside, slowly coating the two cars. They belonged to the owner and the man presumably. I sighed quietly and in unintentional synchrony with the alarm of the washing machine, signifying the end of the wash cycle. I slid off the edge of the bench and transferred the soggy clothes into the dryer just opposite. The clothes were weighed down with rebirth and the rediscovered innocence they had lost. I pressed the start button twice on the machine after feeding it 8 quarters before it decided to actually work and shuffled back to the bench I was previously sat on, rubbing my arms quickly to warm them up after being influenced to turn purple by the declining temperature
The author illustrates the “dim, rundown apartment complex,” she walks in, hand and hand with her girlfriend. Using the terms “dim,” and “rundown” portrays the apartment complex as an unsafe, unclean environment; such an environment augments the violence the author anticipates. Continuing to develop a perilous backdrop for the narrative, the author describes the night sky “as the perfect glow that surrounded [them] moments before faded into dark blues and blacks, silently watching.” Descriptions of the dark, watching sky expand upon the eerie setting of the apartment complex by using personification to give the sky a looming, ominous quality. Such a foreboding sky, as well as the dingy apartment complex portrayed by the author, amplify the narrator’s fear of violence due to her sexuality and drive her terror throughout the climax of the
The night was tempestuous and my emotions were subtle, like the flame upon a torch. They blew out at the same time that my sense of tranquility dispersed, as if the winds had simply come and gone. The shrill scream of a young girl ricocheted off the walls and for a few brief seconds, it was the only sound that I could hear. It was then that the waves of turmoil commenced to crash upon me. It seemed as though every last one of my senses were succumbed to disperse from my reach completely. As everything blurred, I could just barely make out the slam of a door from somewhere alongside me and soon, the only thing that was left in its place was an ominous silence.
cold, harsh, wintry days, when my brothers and sister and I trudged home from school burdened down by the silence and frigidity of our long trek from the main road, down the hill to our shabby-looking house. More rundown than any of our classmates’ houses. In winter my mother’s riotous flowers would be absent, and the shack stood revealed for what it was. A gray, decaying...
Subject- "Sorting Laundry" is about a wife reminiscing about the times that she has had with her husband while she is folding and sorting their laundry.
As I walked down the corridor I noticed a man lying in a hospital bed with only a television, two dressers, and a single window looking out at nothing cluttering his room. Depression overwhelmed me as I stared at the man laying on his bed, wearing a hospital gown stained by failed attempts to feed himself and watching a television that was not on. The fragments of an existence of a life once active and full of conviction and youth, now laid immovable in a state of unconsciousness. He was unaffected by my presence and remained in his stupor, despondently watching the blank screen. The solitude I felt by merely observing the occupants of the home forced me to recognize the mentality of our culture, out with the old and in with the new.
“It was a large, beautiful room, rich and picturesque in the soft, dim light which the maid had turned low. She went and stood at an open window and looked out upon the deep tangle of the garden below. All the mystery and witchery of the night seemed to have gathered there amid the perfumes and the dusky and tortuous outlines of flowers and foliage. She was seeking herself and finding herself in just such sweet half-darkness which met her moods. But the voices were not soothing that came to her from the darkness and the sky above and the stars. They jeered and sounded mourning notes without promise, devoid even of hope. She turned back into the room and began to walk to and fro, down its whole length, without stopping, without resting. She carried in her hands a thin handkerchief, which she tore into ribbons, rolled into a ball, and flung from her. Once she stopped, and taking off her wedding ring, flung it upon the carpet. When she saw it lying there she stamped her heel upon it, striving to crush it. But her small boot heel did not make an indenture, not a mark upon the glittering circlet.
Laughter and cheer filled the air as the sun started to set that hot humid summer day. Andrew looked for a place to just rest. People walked by with no cares in sight, giving a friendly smile as they strolled by, not knowing his story, not knowing why he was there on that mournful day. He lay his heavy head down and try to steal a minute of peace a minute of rest. More people walk by, and a tear came to his eye, not just from sadness, but gratefulness for being alive. He gathered up his few belongings to try to find a new spot when panic overcame him when he remembered what he forgot. He rushed back to get it and there it laid; a warn down old jacket, tattered and torn. It was not much to look at, but it still kept him warm. He sat back down just
I peered around through the rain, desperately searching for some shelter, I was drowning out here. The trouble was, I wasn’t in the best part of town, and in fact it was more than a little dodgy. I know this is my home turf but even I had to be careful. At least I seemed to be the only one out here on such an awful night. The rain was so powerfully loud I couldn’t hear should anyone try and creep up on me. I also couldn’t see very far with the rain so heavy and of course there were no street lights, they’d been broken long ago. The one place I knew I could safely enter was the church, so I dashed.
In 2016, Bed Bath & Beyond had the largest market share of any home goods retailer in the country with over ten billion dollars in sales (Statista, 2017). The next closest in sales was Ikea with just under seven billion in sales (Statista, 2017). Bed Bath & Beyond appears to be thriving in some areas; they have an efficient store set-up, a variety of products that appeal to their multiple target markets, and the supplier network to keep up with any fluctuation in demand (Zacks Equity Research, 2017). However, there is a multitude of options that Bed Bath & Beyond can use to improve their sales. For example, they could begin by assessing their products and inventory since the economies of the countries that Bed Bath & Beyond has stores in are
The story begins as the boy describes his neighborhood. Immediately feelings of isolation and hopelessness begin to set in. The street that the boy lives on is a dead end, right from the beginning he is trapped. In addition, he feels ignored by the houses on his street. Their brown imperturbable faces make him feel excluded from the decent lives within them. The street becomes a representation of the boy’s self, uninhabited and detached, with the houses personified, and arguably more alive than the residents (Gray). Every detail of his neighborhood seems designed to inflict him with the feeling of isolation. The boy's house, like the street he lives on, is filled with decay. It is suffocating and “musty from being long enclosed.” It is difficult for him to establish any sort of connection to it. Even the history of the house feels unkind. The house's previous tenant, a priest, had died while living there. He “left all his money to institutions and the furniture of the house to his sister (Norton Anthology 2236).” It was as if he was trying to insure the boy's boredom and solitude. The only thing of interest that the boy can find is a bicycle pump, which is rusty and rendered unfit to play with. Even the “wild” garden is gloomy and desolate, containing but a lone apple tree and a few straggling bushes. It is hardly the sort of yard that a young boy would want. Like most boys, he has no voice in choosing where he lives, yet his surroundings have a powerful effect on him.
Are you in the market for a cleaning company you can count on? Are you tired of overpriced and mediocre services? If so, you have come to the right place! [cn] has been providing quality and affordable home cleaning and janitorial service throughout the [ln] area for more than [years] years. Our company has a bright reputation for cleaning exceptionally well and leaving a fresh and immaculate space when we are finished. Our service is unique because we review every area of your commercial facility or residence that you need cleaned. We know what it takes to deliver an dependable, efficient, and timely cleaning service.
As the night approached, I began to ruminate over my current problems again. My umbrella broke and an unfortunate jagged branch from a tree had torn apart my only rain poncho. I fell into the lake twice that left me with only one set of dry clothes. It was also forecasted to rain heavily tomorrow – a seemingly condemning concurrence. I was completely defenseless against the rain – no clothes, no umbrella and no poncho. What if I got wet? The clothes on my back were the last of the dry and wearable clothing that I had and I cannot bear to sludge around with dripping wet clothing.
The sunset was not spectacular that day. The vivid ruby and tangerine streaks that so often caressed the blue brow of the sky were sleeping, hidden behind the heavy mists. There are some days when the sunlight seems to dance, to weave and frolic with tongues of fire between the blades of grass. Not on that day. That evening, the yellow light was sickly. It diffused softly through the gray curtains with a shrouded light that just failed to illuminate. High up in the treetops, the leaves swayed, but on the ground, the grass was silent, limp and unmoving. The sun set and the earth waited.
Shopping is something that has to be done whether you enjoy it or not to get essentials needed. We all go places where merchandize is being sold for a specific reason. Whether you go to the mall, shopping centers, or your local grocery store, you 'll always encounter many types of shoppers. Shopping isn’t always as fun as it sounds to everyone, but it is something we often do. This is the only way we get products we need, by personally buying them. You have three main shoppers including impulse buyers, list makers, and bargain hunters.
While growing up, I realized the benefits a person has when they personally own their own business. You can make your own schedule, personally control your finances, and essentially have complete control of your business Of course upon this realization; I came to the conclusion that I was going to be my own boss. I have always taken pride in how I present myself including how I dress. The limitless nature of fashion and its versatility has always intrigued me. One empowering aspect of clothing that is so fascinating is how it enables people to express themselves. Because of these interests, I have come to the conclusion that I wish to own a fashion boutique. In order to pursuit the path of becoming a fashion boutique owner, it is essential that I obtain a degree in business management, evaluate my own skills that make me ideal for the job, and