November 11, 2020.

The bedsheets come out of the washer all clotted with blood, which she's pretty sure isn't part of a regular spin cycle. "Hey," she complains, finding little fragments of ceramic or bone or something stabbing through the sheets. "Hey!"

It feels dangerously hot in the laundromat, which is annoying and she can't wipe the sweat off her face any more because her arms are all covered in the blood from the sheets. The attendant crawls across the ceiling towards her but she waves it away, not wanting help or eternal pain or whatever.

This place is DEFINITELY getting a wack Yelp review.