Hello and welcome! I hope you will enjoy this new story, it is a little different for me. Let's get a few things sorted before we begin.
First, this story is already written. All chapters are around 500 words, more or less...so a bite size fic. I will be posting two chapters per day until they are all up. Yes, I know how many there are but no I'm not going to tell you. Just read along with the rest of the class, mkay? ;) (Oh, and daily for me does not include the weekend, jsyk.)
Secondly, I must ask you all to give thanks to the wonderful Twifanmom who accepted my plea for help and offered her services as a beta/prepreader for this story. She has helped to clean it up and polish it so it will look much better than I originally had it. Many, many, many thanks to her for all her hard work. But please keep in mind, I have final say over my work and if there are still mistakes, those belong to me and me alone.
Third: I don't plan on having many authors notes with this one. I feel like you won't need them but if a situation arises, I'll be sure to drop in a line. Along that same thought, I'm not sure how well I'll do with replying to every review you gift me with since I'll be posting daily. I will do my best but please don't be offened if I miss you.
And finally, here is the one and only disclaimer I'll be making on this story. It goes for every chapter and doesn't need to be repeated:
Stephenie Meyer owns all that is Twilight, and I am not she. I am only using the players in my own twisted way, grateful she let's us play with them. Since I'm not intending to steal from her, please don't steal from me. Thanks!
Now, on with the show...
:: The Rinse Cycle ::
Pushing through the glass doors, I scan the room looking for an available space. Most of the machines are taken, probably because it's so cheap here at The Ringer.
A poor, broke college girl like me couldn't find a better, cleaner and money friendly place to do her laundry at least.
Rows and rows of dingy, dirty off white machines, some in use and some open for the taking, greet me in the center. The walls are lined with metallic, economy sized dryers tumbling with assorted linens.
I move into the room, the heat and humidity from so many large machines working at one time hitting me full in the face. Sweat begins to bead on my skin, gathering at the back of my neck and forehead.
I lug my purple basket to the nearest table I see, keeping my eyes from inadvertently connecting with anyone else. I'm only here to get my task done: wash and dry as quickly as possible so I can get back to study for my world religion exam. I don't need to make friends.
Sorting the items in my basket by color, I place the whites in the machine, add my fruit-scented detergent and close the lid. After depositing eight quarters into the slots, the machine clicks on, water filling the basin.
Pulling the needed book from my bag, I shuffle over to the section of green, plastic chairs and take a seat to wait.
A/N: A banner for this story can be found on my profile. Next update in less than thirty minutes...