Machines lined the walls or comprised the island at the center of the humble coin-op. Mostly front-facing, each were in a different state of disorganization. Some of their circular doors were open, hanging without a care in the world while others were proudly closed. Most of the Tide soap packets in the dispenser where already spoken for; leaving just the drier sheets available to buy.
The floors were awash in linoleum that should have been replaced 15 years ago. The corners show their wear and tear, as they peel or are just non-existent. Tables at the back presented themselves to fold clothes, vending machines were stocked with chocolate and soft-drinks, and a fuzzy green-cast television was set to a news-channel.
Strangely, the Space Invaders cabinet still worked and worked well. Probably the gamer gentleman agreement to not wreck the relic at work.
David was loading clothes into one of the front-facing washers. He's been here a number of times before and knew the tricks: like bring your own detergent. Ever since learning to open his senses he's been here far more regularly, attempting to combat the scent of formaldehyde that permeated everything around him. His skin was flushed with stolen life though the graveyard shift employee crunching on corn-chips at the entrance probably wouldn't have noticed either way.
Paying the machine for its time and stepping around the orphaned pile of wet-laundry, David headed for the Space Invaders Cabinet.
It's been a while since he last played it and got a measly 1000 points.*
-1V for Blush.
1 Success*