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Ava Ming (UK)


MRS. MISTRY SHUFFLED ALONG THE NARROW AISLE THAT LED FROM THE front to the back of the laundrette. A row of plastic seats to her right were fixed in place opposite off-white, front-loading machines. Metal shelves lining the walls were packed with ages-old mini boxes of soap powder, whilst strict warnings prohibiting the washing of under-wired bras were dotted about the room. The rain meant that today she’d get the mothers and toddlers. When their kids were about to drive them up the wall but it was too wet to take them to the park and they didn’t have enough money to go shopping, the moms piled into the warm dry space of the launderette. The hum of the machines sent the babies to sleep and the constant swirl of the clothes kept the older ones fascinated. Mrs Mistry adjusted the waistband of her orange sari and pulled her brown…