Sunday Night

Laundry Room
The fluorescent light was flickering purple, lightning running through.

Outside
Thick plastic flapped from scaffolding.

The trees by the Marriott are still green and leafy, the last of summer lit by spotlights.

John, the Dunkin man, looked glad to see us.

Outside the Dunkin, a woman lined up packs of cigarettes on the sidewalk, along with an alarm clock and her purse. "Got a cigarette?" she asked as people passed.