Slipstream

I stand in Guerneville’s only laundromat, in front of one of those front-load washing machines that promises to get my clothes cleaner and whiter than the kind with the lid on top. I toss in my clothes, lock the door, and insert most of my quarters. Fourteen, to be exact—$3.50 to wash one load.

I step over to the cash machine to retrieve more quarters for the second load. I reach into my pocket for my wallet. My pocket is empty. (more…)

At a small café in San Francisco’s Mission District, wedged between a taqueria and dry cleaner, Grace has been serving eggs and hash browns and coffee for about a hundred years.

She stands at five-feet-four, minus a couple inches for her perpetual stoop. When she walks, she never lifts her feet off the floor. It’s more a sleep-walker’s shuffle—a mix between indifference and the result of a stout, squat body that no longer wants to move. (more…)