She paused at the top of the steps, staring down at the ominous-looking red cross below. She carefully made her way down the stairs, carrying her laundry basket under one arm and holding the laundry detergent in the other. Her footsteps resonated loudly in the stairwell. When she reached the bottom, she turned around and pushed open the large metal door with her back. It made a low creaking sound as it closed behind her. She walked down the long corridor to the laundry room. As she passed the first door to her right, she noticed that it was ajar. The slit of black gave her an eerie feeling. She walked past the door quickly, making her way to the laundry room.

The room was empty--the washer and the dryer stood idle. There was a pile of abandoned stiff laundry on the table, smelling of old mildew. A shallow puddle of water surrounded the washer. The laundry room had always given her the creeps and she tried to get in and out as quickly as possible. She placed her basket and soap on top of the dryer. She opened the washer and found that someone else's clothes were still in there. She reached inside and pulled out the cold, wet clothes--worn boxers, yellowed socks, frayed towels and placed them into the dryer. She felt strange handling someone else's laundry but at the same time, she didn't want to wait. The people in her building had a tendency to get distracted. She proceeded to put her laundry into the washer, followed by the soap.

She slipped her hand into her front pocket and fished around for the three quarters she had placed there earlier. As she brought her hand out, one of the quarters fell to the ground and rolled towards the corridor. She chased after it, not having anymore change. She took one large step and came down hard on top of the quarter. She bent over to pick it up, catching another glimpse of the black slit across the way. She shuddered and suddenly felt the need to leave.

She quickly made her way back to the washer and placed all three quarters into the slot--her hands shaking. The washer started up, making a low whirring sound. She put her basket and soap on top of the table and ran out of the laundry room. She pushed open the door at the end of the corridor and ran into a hard form.

"Oh, fuck," she screamed, jumping back.

"It's just me," a young man said, trying not to laugh.

It was her neighbor.

"You fucking scared the shit out of me," she said, pushing by him.

"I'm sorry."

"Oh . . . and if your laundry was in the washer, I took it out and put it in the dryer. Sorry, I didn't mean to touch it."

"Wouldn't be the first time you touched my underwear," he said, biting down on his lip.

"Fuck you," she said, running up the stairs.