Tumbling – an Ode to the Soul Collector

Never forget the “Soul Collector”


The bright white of the bare fluorescent bulbs reflected off the white enamel chasing any chance of a shadow along the linoleum floor into the corners – the black and white flecked tiles, slightly gummy and redolent of industrial pine cleaner, cling to the bottom of Jimmy’s bright red Chucks as he watches the aimless tumble of T-Shirts in the big dryer. Taking a deep breath of the heavy humid air tinged with the sweet scent of warm cotton and softener, he lets out a deep sigh watching the chaotic choreography – he isn’t a metaphor kinda guy, but it strikes him that his life has been following a similar pattern lately – leaning back in the plastic chair the thought passes. He doesn’t open his eyes as the door scrapes open and a deep mellow voice intones… “long is the day, hard is the struggle…”



Short Stories

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