Lucinda was a dreamer. Someday, she knew that her Mom would return with the waffle iron and say she was sorry; perhaps even share her delicious recipe for Translucent Liquid Essence of Bran.
She watched as Betsy came back to the Launderette of Shattered Hope, carrying a sack full of soiled turnips that she liked to cook in the dryer next to Lucinda’s (on fluff for about an hour, and then ten minutes on high heat).
Some of the other inhabitants of launderette didn’t like the sound the turnips made as they bashed around inside the genuine Tagmay industrial-strength dryer (and cappuccino maker), but it made Lucinda think of tumbling bags of cats, and furnishings, and a time when she wasn’t sitting in a pool of her own sweat.
Oddly, it made her yearn for the days when her Mom would make potato-flavoured expectorant. That Betsy!
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