THE RUST

The man sits in the Laundromat staring at the rust colored water in the washing machine. He's never been religious but tonight he finds himself praying, praying to whatever God or gods are in charge of stains.

‘It’s gonna come out, it has to,’ he thinks to himself as the machine beeps for the second time.

He steps forward and pulls the blue uniform out and scowls at it, seeing the red stains still soaked deep into the fabric, despite the fresh detergent smell lingering around him.

“How old is the stain?” A woman's voice asks from behind him, nearly causing him to fall over from surprise.

“Ohh uhh, this morning.” He grumbles not quite meeting her eyes.

“Here try this, my daughter just got her period for the first time so I brought some with me.” She answers with a smile as she hands him a bottle of peroxide.

“Thanks.” He says quietly with a small nod before pouring the peroxide over the stains and throwing it back into the machine.

He walks back over to her and sets the bottle down, giving her a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. He returns to his seat in front of the washer and goes back to staring at it, as if that will be the final ingredient in fixing one of the worst days of his life.

"we are reporting from Eighth and Broadview where two police officers lost their lives this morning." The TV announced, though he barely heard it. He glanced at the woman who was now looking at him with a look of understanding in her eyes.

He expected her to apologize, or perhaps ask him if he was okay. But instead she simply walked over to him and set her hand on his shoulder.

“Thank you for your service, officer.”

He looked to the hand on his shoulder then back to the rust colored water churning behind the glass of the machine.